


Like the Sun Holds the Moon

by IAmAVeronica



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A/B/O Prejudice, Alpha Derek, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bigotry & Prejudice, Canon-Typical Violence, Childbirth, Fire, Forbidden Love, Forced Stiles Stilinski/Kate Argent (ch. 14), Full Shift Werewolves, Happy Ending, Imprisonment, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Minor character suicide, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Touching, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Parenthood, Part One Ends at Chapter 9, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexism, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 118,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5442803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmAVeronica/pseuds/IAmAVeronica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is an omega, and he's supposed to be obedient. He's supposed to mate with the stranger chosen for him and quietly disappear. He's not supposed to talk to alphas, or have sex, or fall in love.<br/>Then he meets Derek Hale.<br/>Obedience was always overrated, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey remember that time three weeks ago I said "I'll be taking a loooong break before I post again?" Mmmhmm.  
> I'm a big fan of stories that address what an A/B/O world would really be like, complete with institutionalized sexism and lack of agency, and while I kind of dipped my toe into that with Fire, Fury, and Flame, this story is going to get a lot darker than anything I've written previously. With that in mind, I'll make two promises upfront: (1) this story will have a happy ending, and (2) the story will not use rape as a plot point. Anything else that might be triggering will be warned in each chapter (and I promise to be good about updating the tags for once in my MISERABLE LIFE.) Tags are currently a bit spoilerly, so if you don't want to look at them I'll just toss the content warning for this chapter here (SPOILERS): the end of the chapter has some forest sex, complete with a knotting. #WriteWhatYouKnow.  
> Because I like to be happy as much as the next person, I'm going to be simultaneously posting a fluffy smutty fic, the first chapter of which should be up tomorrow. And here I thought I wouldn't be posting anything till 2016 at least. You guys totally enable me with your wonderfulness.  
> Also, please do not put my works on Goodreads or any other similar site outside of AO3 without my knowledge.

Stiles Stilinski is in deep, deep shit. 

He sits across from his school principal, hands folded in his lap as demurely as he can manage, and tries not to look as guilty as he is and as scared as he feels. 

“I just want to know what you were thinking, Mr. Stilinski,” Mr. Yukimura mumbles, rubbing at his temples with exasperation. 

Well, that’s simple enough, really. He was thinking that he liked sports, and lacrosse rarely pulled much of a crowd to notice he was an omega, and it was senior year, possibly his last chance to have any real control over his own life, and Coach and the guys were willing to go along with it, so why shouldn’t he get to play? 

Of course omegas aren’t allowed on sports teams. Just like they’re not allowed to take AP courses, or attend college, or join any clubs that are _politically motivated_. Anything that might turn them away from their _natural role_ as childrearers and helpmeets to Alphas. 

A _helpmeet_. As if. 

Scott had been totally enthusiastic about the idea at the beginning of the year, which probably should have been Stiles’s first clue that the whole thing was doomed. Together they’d created a false persona for Stiles with the last name “Bilinski,” because, well, creativity was for other men. The school was large enough that they figured they might get away with it. Most of the guys knew, of course, but they felt sorry enough for Stiles— and impressed enough at his skill level— that they didn’t turn him in. And Coach…honestly, Stiles isn’t a hundred percent sure what Coach Finstock’s deal is, but he figured Coach was being willfully ignorant about Stiles’s biological status. 

He’d gotten four whole games under his belt before someone turned him in to Principal Yukimura. 

Thanks so much for that, anonymous asshole. Nothing like being totally and utterly screwed to start off a Wednesday. 

“I was trying to run off excess energy,” he tries. 

“Excess energy,” Mr. Yukimura repeats without inflection. 

“Yeah. You know I have ADHD. It makes me twitchy sometimes. At my last couple meetings with Omega Social Services they said I needed to find some ways to keep it under control. Learn how to be more, you know, _docile_.” He tries not to spit the word. “Lacrosse was my way of doing that.” 

Mr. Yukimura clearly doesn’t buy it, but he’s a decent guy, and he just looks grateful that Stiles is giving him an out. “I think you know that was a pretty misguided plan. But— if you can tell me that you’ve learned your lesson— I don’t see any reason to report this to OSS.” 

Stiles exhales. “I have totally learned my lesson, sir.” 

“Good.” Mr. Yukimura grimaces. “And, ah, if you need a way to keep the _twitchiness_ under control…I understand that OSS encourages yoga for omegas. They give classes every Saturday down at the Y, if you’d like to enroll.” 

_Right_. Because the downward-facing dog or whatever the fuck is so much more therapeutic than slamming a ball into a net. 

“Good advice, sir.” Stiles drums his fingers against his seat. “Can I ask? Who turned me in?” 

Mr. Yukimura frowns. “I don’t think you need to know that, do you? Frankly, they did you a favor by reporting it to me before anyone outside the school found out.” His voice becomes gentle again. “Stiles, do you know what would have happened if OSS found out about this?” 

Of course Stiles knows. 

He’d be forced into intense behavioral therapy, with his heat-control meds adjusted to correct whatever chemical imbalance inside of him made him so unforgivably willful. His transgression would go on his permanent record, a warning to any potential mates. Or, if OSS decided what he had done was especially serious, he’d be taken away to where all the bad omegas go— some sort of prison camp, where omegas are watched and punished and trained until they can be mated against their will to an alpha looking for something to break. Stiles had always thought the camps were some sort of urban legend, until a senior omega was taken last year. She’d returned four months later, mated and no longer allowed to attend school. 

Her crime? Writing an open letter to the newspaper about why omegas should be allowed to vote. _The horror._

“Yeah,” Stiles says, staring down at the floor. “I know.” 

“All right, then.” Mr. Yukimura shuffles some papers on his desk, dismissing Stiles. “Let’s keep this between ourselves, okay? And, of course, you’re still welcome to cheer on the team from the stands. I know they have a big game coming up this weekend.” 

“Rivalry match against East Orange,” Stiles says dully. Coach has been working himself up into a lather about it all season. The returning players on the team had said his pump-up speech was going to be out-of-this-world. If they won, he’d already promised them free curly fries and ice cream in celebration. “It would have been great.” 

# 

“It was Daehler,” Stiles says an hour later as he walks home with Scott. “I knew he recognized me when he came to take pictures for the yearbook.” 

Scott looks insanely depressed as he watches Stiles lug home all of his lacrosse gear, never to be worn again. “But why would he do that?” 

“I don’t know. Because he’s a dick?” 

“He is a dick,” Scott agrees gravely. “Man, Stiles. You were getting so good, too!” 

“I was getting _decent_. But yeah. It sucks. I— ” 

At that moment a man passing bumps into Stiles, hitting his shoulder and nearly sending him flying. He glares at Stiles, eyes flashing in annoyance and breath coming out in a snarl. 

“Sorry,” Stiles mutters, dropping his gaze to the ground. Derek Hale. The last werewolf in Beacon Hills and the town outcast because of it. Werewolves had kept hidden for years, until they started being hunted to extinction and had to come out of hiding in the hopes of getting some sort of protection. That plan had backfired— werewolves had to be specially registered with the government, with restrictions on who and when they could mate. And the hunters didn’t stop trying to eradicate them. Years earlier Derek’s family had been killed when hunters burned down their home. No arrests had been made; most people just seemed disappointed Derek hadn’t died with everyone else. 

Derek growls before stomping on his way. Stiles watches everyone on the sidewalk give him a wide berth, as if he might be contagious. 

“Jeez,” Scott mutters. “Speaking of dicks.” 

“Seriously.” Stiles hoists the bag Derek had jostled higher on his shoulder and shakes his head to clear it as they approach Stiles’s house. “Well, anyway, we’ll have to think of some way to get Daehler back. Itching powder in his jock strap or something. Nah, that’s too juvenile. Give me a day to figure it out.” 

“I have total faith in you, evil mastermind.” Scott walks into Stiles’s house with him without even asking. Usually unmated omegas aren’t allowed to be unsupervised with alphas, but Stiles’s father and Scott’s mom had filed paperwork with OSS back when the boys were kids agreeing that Scott and Stiles would never mate, so their relationship would always be platonic. “Want to play _Battleflash_ and get your mind off it?” 

“Yeah. Let me go hide this stuff.” Stiles runs his lacrosse gear upstairs, stuffing it under the bed before returning to Scott. They play the video game for about a half hour, Stiles imagining Daehler’s face every time he shoots. He and Scott are shit at teamwork, though, and they end up both going out in a bloodbath. “Saw that coming,” Scott says. “Another round?” 

Stiles shakes his head, tossing his controller onto the couch. “I don’t want to push my luck. At my last checkup with OSS I was reminded that games encouraging _inappropriate aggression_ are strictly prohibited, and with the way today’s going I’d rather not get busted. More importantly, I think Dad will actually be home for dinner tonight, so I should get cooking. Thanks, though.” 

“Okay. See you tomorrow.” 

Stiles waves Scott out the door and then peers through the blinds of the living room window until he’s sure Scott is out of sight. Once he’s in the clear he scribbles a quick note in case his dad really does make it home early and pushes open the back door that leads into the woods. 

He’s not sure exactly when he first started going into the woods to unwind after shitty days. Sometime in middle school, definitely, when the weight of being an omega had first started to bear down on him. There was something so soothing about land society hadn’t touched, as though, just for a moment, he’d slipped away from a suffocating grasp and found freedom. He’d dream of just staying out there forever, maybe stumbling across the camps of legend, where runaway omegas lived free. They probably don’t exist, but sometimes omegas just disappear and never return. Stiles likes to imagine they find their way to a better place. 

He walks a path that is now familiar, deeply inhaling fresh air. He already feels better. 

Then he hears a growl. 

He tenses, stopping short. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he doesn’t even have time to turn before he’s being tackled. A huge black wolf bares its teeth at him, paws pinning him into the earth. Stiles squeaks. 

The wolf relaxes and trembles, as though it’s shaking itself out. The paws on his chest become hands; the bared teeth a half-smirk. Derek Hale blinks down at him. “You kept me waiting,” he says. 

“Did not.” Stiles struggles to sit up with a hundred and seventy pounds of alpha still on top of him. He fishes into his pocket for the note Derek had dropped into his bag when he’d slammed into Stiles on the street. “Your note just said ‘ _meet me_ ,’ Mr. Cryptic. And good job on that, by the way. You totally bruised me.” 

“I did?” Derek looks guilty. “Sorry. I just wanted it to look natural.” 

“Well, mission accomplished. In the future, you can put notes in my mailbox. My dad is never home to check before me.” 

“I was going to, but I saw you walking, and I just figured…” Derek shrugs. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, though. Do you need me to take the pain?” His hand cups Stiles’s shoulder, and Stiles can feel the warmth even through his shirt. 

“Nah, it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Stiles wriggles and Derek rolls off of him. “And, seriously, you didn’t have to remind me to meet you today. I wouldn’t have missed today for the world.” His hand finds Derek’s on the ground and he squeezes it. “Happy anniversary,” he says. 

One year. One whole year since he’d first met Derek out here. He remembers that first time with perfect clarity. He’d been having an especially lousy day and had wandered farther than he usually did out in the woods until he’d found a clearing that was pretty nice. There was no burbling brook or patch of wildflowers or anything, but the sun came through the trees at just right angle to make the entire place seem sort of peaceful and magical. He’d closed his eyes to breathe it all in when he suddenly heard a branch snap behind him. He turned to see Derek Hale, looking so furious Stiles jumped backwards. 

“These are my woods,” Hale said 

Stiles only knew the basics about Derek Hale— he was an alpha, an orphan, and a werewolf, and while he still lived in the burned-down wreck of his old home on the outskirts of town he sure as hell didn’t own the entire woods. And he was glaring at Stiles with dismissive disgust, another alpha who thought Stiles was something to step on, and Stiles just— _snapped_. 

“Fuck you,” he said. “I’m here now.” 

He wasn’t sure exactly what he expected. To die, probably, or at the very least end up crawling home. Instead Hale’s shoulders had slumped. “Okay,” he said, already turning. “Sorry.” 

Just like that. It was the fastest Stiles had ever seen someone give up, and he instantly felt guilty. “Dude,” he called, stopping Hale in his tracks. “There’s enough space for the both of us, you know.” Hale looked over his shoulder. “No,” he said. His voice was sort of gravelly, as if he didn’t use it very often. “You were here first.” 

“I’m not doing anything important. I just wanted to chill here for a little while. I’ve never seen this place before, but it’s nice. Spending a few hours in places like this kind of…keeps me calm, I guess.” He was talking too much, now that the first rush of angry adrenaline was gone. Usually that annoyed people, but Hale just cocked his head, as if he’d never seen anyone like Stiles before. 

“That’s why I come here too,” he said after a moment. 

Stiles nodded and slid down to sit against a tree. “I don’t mind company,” he said. He wasn’t even sure why he was saying it. The whole point of going out to the woods was to be alone, not to make friends with scary loner mutants. No matter how outrageously attractive they were… 

“But you’re— you know I’m an alpha, right?” 

Stiles blushed. He was masculine, for an omega, and sometimes people didn’t realize his gender just from talking to him, but Hale was obviously perceptive. “I’m not scared of alphas, dude.” He paused, anticipating Hale’s next question while he struggled to get it out. “I’m not scared of werewolves, either.” 

Derek considered him for another moment. Maybe he was afraid of leaving Stiles out here alone, in case he was attacked by a wild animal or something and Derek got blamed for it. Maybe he was just afraid to surrender his territory in case he never got it back. For whatever reason, he said, “Okay,” and slid down to sit against a tree of his own. 

Derek hadn’t talked much that first day. Stiles had— he’d been so nervous he hadn’t been able to shut up. The whole situation had put him in mind of holding out scraps to a cowering dog, just waiting for it to scamper away. Except for Scott and his dad, Stiles didn’t usually talk to alphas. He wasn’t used to being heard like this, and even though Derek barely responded, Stiles knew he was listening. It felt sort of nice, filling him with a different kind of peace than he normally found in the woods. 

When the sun went down Stiles grabbed his bag and said, “See you tomorrow,” without even thinking about it. Hale hadn’t responded, just watched as Stiles walked away. 

But he was there the next day. And the next, and the next. And somewhere along the way, he started talking back. 

Now here they are, one year later. Stiles would never have expected that the most important relationship in his life would begin with a _fuck you_ and a genuine expectation of death, but, well, life is full of fun little surprises. 

“Happy anniversary,” Derek repeats, keeping his hand for a second before letting it go. “Good news. I got off work Saturday. I’ll finally be able to watch you play.” 

Stiles deflates. “About that. I’m off the team. Someone turned me in.” 

“Who?” 

“I don’t know for sure.” 

“Find out,” Derek says, voice a dangerous growl that makes Stiles’s stomach flip. “They should be taught a lesson.” 

“Aww. You going to beat them up for me?” 

“Yes.” 

Stiles grins at the simple certainty of the answer. “But that might ruin your image as the town’s most upstanding citizen.” 

“It would be worth it.” Derek stretches out his arm and Stiles takes the hint, scooching closer to the werewolf until he can rest his head against Derek’s shoulder. “God, Stiles,” Derek says. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” And this is one of the reasons Stiles loves being with Derek. Because Derek gets it. He knows what it is to be taught you don’t deserve things the rest of the world gets free. He feels the same constant irritation, as though injustice is a grain of sand against the soul that never quite goes away. 

When society insists you are something that you’re not, being really understood by someone— being _seen_ — becomes more important than anything else. 

Derek sees Stiles. 

Stiles sees Derek. 

And they both like what they see; like it more than society would ever allow. There’s a reason omegas aren’t allowed unsupervised fraternization with alphas and betas— their wants and emotions aren’t supposed to factor into the mating process. In fact, if OSS finds out that an omega had a prior romantic relationship, they forbid a mating with that person. Relationships built on such things as love and respect mess with the _family structure_. 

That idea had always been force-fed down Stiles’s throat, to the point that he couldn’t even imagine falling in love with an alpha. It just hadn’t seemed real to him. It had been such an incredible concept that he hadn’t even understood his feelings for Derek when they’d first crept in. 

It wasn’t until the end of junior year, when the omegas had been given a talk on what would happen once that they were seniors, that things changed. Stiles had sat there with everyone else, listening to the guidance counselors explain that upon graduation first alphas, then betas, could seek a mating contract with each omega, so during the school year they might have their heat meds adjusted or have extra meetings with the OSS or have their class schedules modified based on deficiencies in their profile— all to make sure they were _perfect and ready for alphas!_ As they talked, and he imagined being mated to some _stranger_ , he’d felt his chest grow tighter and tighter. He wanted to scream, and when he was finally let out he ran all the way home and into the woods without stopping. 

Derek hadn’t been there yet. They never had a set schedule for when they would meet; they just showed up every few afternoons. Stiles had paced the clearing, getting more and more upset. When Derek finally appeared and said his name Stiles found he couldn’t speak at all. He just gasped for air, hands against his face as the pressure inside his skull threatened to make him explode. 

“Stiles!” Derek tried to take his hands. “What is it? Are you hurt?” His hands pressed over Stiles’s sides, chest, cheeks; searching for what he could fix. His hands were frantic, but gentle, and Stiles leaned into them, thinking, _in a year, no one will ever touch me like this again._

“I’m scared,” he’d said, each word like a knife against his throat. “God, Derek, I’m so scared.” 

“Of what?” 

_Of losing this_ , he thought. “Of being mated. I only have a year left. And then I’m _done_. I don’t get to have a life anymore. I don’t get to have—“ _you_ — “any freedom. I can’t control who gets me. But whoever it is will own me, and Derek, I’m _scared_.” The last words broke out of him in a wail and Derek just _grabbed_ him, tucking Stiles’ head into his chest, rocking him like it was something he’d done a thousand times before. 

He’d waited until Stiles was marginally calmer, enough to breathe and listen. Then he’d started to talk. He told Stiles that his sister, Cora, had survived the fire with him. She’d been an omega. She’d always thought, since she was a werewolf, she wouldn’t be wanted by any alpha and could just go on living with Derek. But the day after graduation OSS workers came for her, explaining that they had a special fertility drug that would ensure she only had human children. They’d found her a mate, not the best prospect in the world by any means, but she should consider herself lucky that anyone was willing to take her. And her alpha was going to treat her with a firm hand to make up for her _deficiency_ ; there would be no shifting; no visits with her brother; no time to spend in the woods she loved so much. 

She’d gone on the run that night, hoping to find those fabled camps somewhere deep in the mountains. Derek hadn’t seen her since. 

Stiles shook as he heard the story. The same thing would happen to him. Some matings turned out fine; his parents had fallen madly in love, and his dad had treated his mom with all the respect in the world. But whoever he got, it wouldn’t be Derek. It was as though he finally understood that, and it made him want to just hold on to the werewolf for as long as he could. 

“I won’t let that happen again,” Derek said softly, one hand against the back of Stiles’s head, as though he was clinging to Stiles just as much as Stiles was clinging to him. “I won’t watch OSS take away someone I care about. I _won’t_. Stiles…” 

Stiles stared up at him. From this close he could see the exact color of Derek’s eyes, and the bow of his lips. He suddenly imagined waking up in the same bed as Derek. Sharing more than just conversation with him. Feeling this safe, this _free_ , every day for the rest of his life. 

He would never be sure if he was the one who kissed Derek first, or if Derek kissed him. Either way, someone started it, and the other kissed back. And after that, there was no going back. 

What they had done was far more dangerous than joining a lacrosse team or playing a violent video game. If anyone found out, Stiles would face the worst punishment OSS had to offer. But Derek vowed that would never happen; that they would keep meeting in secret, telling nobody in the world, until the day came that Derek could seek a mating contract and they could make things legal. 

It isn’t a guarantee, of course. Nothing is ever a guarantee. But Stiles has to think positively, because if, in a year, he’s mated to anyone other than Derek, he’s not sure how he’s going to go on. 

“Did OSS find out?” Derek asks now. He’s absentmindedly playing with Stiles’s hair; he does that now that it’s grown out a little. 

“No. My principal said he’d keep it a secret.” 

“Good.” Stiles doesn’t say anything and Derek sighs. “ _Stiles_. He did you a favor.” 

“I know, I know. But if OSS found out, it might make things easier for us next year, you know?” 

“Or it might end with you mated to someone fifty years old, or in one of their prison camps.” Derek puts his arm around Stiles and hitches him a little closer, as if just saying it puts a shiver down his spine. “I’m going to take care of it,” he promises. “I’ll get a mating contract, I promise. You don’t need to take unnecessary risks.” 

“Okay, worrywolf.” Stiles doesn’t want to have this argument again. It was his idea, months ago, to act up a little and get a few blotches on his record. As a werewolf, Derek doesn’t have social stature like most alphas. OSS could very well decide that letting him have Stiles would be a waste of a perfectly good omega. So, knock himself down a few pegs; make himself just a few shades undesirable, and voilà. To the werewolf goes the spoils. 

It might be the stupidest idea in the history of stupid ideas. Or it might be genius. Most of Stiles’s ideas walk that line, honestly. 

“I’m just bummed you won’t get to see me play now,” he says to change the subject. “I mean, I was the _lynchpin_ of that team. I brought a natural talent to the game like no high school has ever seen before. Coach Finstock promised to name his firstborn child after me, I was so good.” 

“Really?” Derek says dryly. “Because the last time we spoke, you still only had one goal to your name, and it was in the wrong net.” 

“Well, you have to downplay your abilities off the field. Lacrosse can get pretty serious. For all I know, you’re a _spy_ from East Orange sent to smoke me out as the team superstar and break both my legs.” 

Derek snorts. “Shit, you caught me. And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for my meddling omega.” 

“Aww, a Scooby-Doo reference! That’s practically a dog joke! It really takes the pressure off of me; I always try to get one or two in every time we meet— ” 

Derek growls and pins him again, kissing him to get him to be quiet, which has been his tactic ever since Stiles explained that groaning, _shut up, Stiles_ , was not a very polite way to end a conversation. The kissing goes on for a while, until the air around them feels hazed with heat and hormones and Derek pulls away reluctantly. “Gotta stop,” he says roughly. 

Stiles whines and tries to get Derek’s hand back to the races, but the alpha isn’t having it. “You know we can’t,” he says, rolling away to catch his breath. 

Stiles knows. What they do is dangerous enough; actually having sex would be pushing it to unacceptable levels of risk. “Our first full day as a mated couple better just be an endless sexathon, you tease,” he says. 

Derek smirks. “Our first full _week_ as a mated couple is going to be an endless sexathon.” 

“Now that’s the enthusiasm I like to see.” Stiles curls up against Derek again, and the werewolf makes a warning noise. “What? I’m _cold_. It’s practically below freezing already.” 

“Is not,” the werewolf mutters, but he puts his arm around Stiles anyway. “I hate winter,” he says as they both squint into the gray sky. 

“What?! Winter has snow and Santa, you scrooge.” 

Derek snorts. “Try running on snow with naked paws and then get back to me about how great it is. And Santa is a _lie_. I didn’t just ruin Christmas for you, did I?” 

“Nah, my dad did that when I was six. Haven’t I ever told you how I found out Santa was fake?” Derek shakes his head and Stiles grins without any humor. “Strap yourself in. This is a _story_.” 

“Oh, god,” Derek groans, rolling on his side so he can give Stiles his full attention. 

“Yeah, this is pretty bad.” Stiles takes a breath. “So, you know my mom got sick when I was five. She’d gotten pregnant again, and went in for her first ultrasound, and bam. Uterine cancer. The doctors said it could be treated, but she would need a full hysterectomy, which meant a termination of the current pregnancy and no hope of any future one.” 

Derek grimaces, clearly knowing where this is going. “Okay.” 

“My parents were okay with that…the doctors made it clear if treatment didn’t start immediately she wouldn’t make it. But OSS stepped in and said no. No abortion. Maybe, after the pregnancy was over, they could talk about a hysterectomy, but _destroying_ an omega like that was an absolute last resort. It was so stupid, because exactly what you’d think would happen did— she lost the baby a couple months in, and the OSS still refused to let her have a hysterectomy, so she was just getting these pointless treatments and fading away, knowing she was going to die.” 

Derek looks a little sick. “How does Santa factor into this?” 

“Well, around December my dad finally told me that Mom was going to die, and dying is something that happens to all of us eventually, and it means you go to sleep forever and can’t be with your family any more. So I was trying to come to terms with that little bombshell, and the day I was writing out my letter to Santa I freaked out and asked my dad, you know, what if _Santa_ died? Who would bring presents? And my dad told me that Santa couldn’t die; he was immortal. Which, to me, meant there was a loophole in the whole _everybody dies eventually_ thing I’d just been taught. 

“I figured, if Santa could live forever, he probably had some way to make sure my mom would, too. And after watching Mom swallow seven different pills every day, I decided he had a special medicine that did it. So when I went to sit on Santa’s lap in the mall that year, I asked my dad for privacy, and then I told this poor dude that I wanted some of his special live-forever pills for my mom. This was so above Mall Santa’s paygrade that he just kind of stammered for a minute, and I remember giving him this big wink, like, no worries dude, our little secret. And I skipped home thinking I’d just hatched the world’s greatest plan to save my mom.” 

“Goddamn,” Derek mutters. “I take it you were disappointed Christmas morning?” 

“Try _hysterical_. I ripped through all the presents, then started screaming at my dad that he had to take me back to the mall; I needed to see Santa; he’d forgotten my most important gift. My dad finally calmed me down enough to get the whole story out of me. He tried to save it at first, by explaining that Santa was special, and that’s why he was the only one who lived forever, but I was _not_ having that explanation. Eventually it got to the point where my dad was like, _well, better just rip this Band-Aid off_ and he told me Santa wasn’t real. He was sorry he’d lied to me; it was just supposed to be a fun way to make Christmas magical for kids, but Santa wasn’t real and nobody lived forever and there was no magic pill out there that could keep Mom with us. So as you can imagine that was the worst day of my life, up to that point.” 

“Well,” Derek says after a long moment of silence. “I think you win most traumatic Santa reveal in history.” 

Stiles laughs. “Yours wasn’t quite so bad, huh? Do werewolves even have Santa? Or do you have, like, Magic Werewolf Jim?” 

Derek swats him. “Of course we had Santa. I figured it out when I was eight, but all my little siblings still believed, and my older sister Laura was being such a jerk about it— whenever one of the little kids would say anything about Santa she would just huff, like, _oh, children_. I didn’t want to be like that so I figured I’d keep up with willful ignorance for as long as possible.” 

“A respectable plan.” 

“Thanks. I probably would have lied to myself for years if my mom didn’t finally decide it was time for me to grow up. We had this tradition where the day after Christmas we’d get donuts from Main Street Bakery, and my mom asked me to go with her when I was nine, and on the way back she asked if I had any questions for her about Santa. I kind of mumbled that I knew he wasn’t real, and that was that. But when we get home I looked at all the kids still running around excited, and I kind of felt like— well, I’ve peaked. Like the good stuff was all done with and it was just a slow slog towards death from here on out.” 

“Oh, my god. My poor little nine-year-old Derek having a midlife crisis.” Stiles hides his face in Derek’s shoulder, feeling bad for laughing at the tragic note in Derek’s voice. “When we have kids, let’s never lie to them about Santa, okay? I don’t want some myth taking all the credit for my amazing Christmas gifts.” 

“Okay. As long as they always believe in Magic Werewolf Jim.” 

“Deal.” Stiles looks sideways at Derek. “What do you do now for Christmas?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Really? Nothing at all?” 

Derek shakes his head. “It would just be depressing if I tried.” He gives Stiles a small smile. “Next year. Next year I’ll have Christmas again.” 

But there’s no guarantee, is there? And if things don’t work out for them— no happy Christmas for Derek, or Stiles, ever again. “This year,” Stiles says firmly. “We’re going to celebrate Christmas together.” 

“Yeah? You want to explain to your dad why a werewolf is joining him for Christmas dinner?” 

“We’ll meet out here, like we always do. Just gifts, maybe some eggnog in a thermos, Joy to the World— nothing fancy, just a little Christmas spirit.” 

“You just want presents.” 

“Excuse you, alpha. I am the present _king_. Don’t even bother getting me anything, because what I get for you is going to blow everything else out of the water.” 

Derek’s eyes glitter at the challenge. “You’re on.” 

“How about Christmas Eve?” 

“That’s a full moon night.” 

“I like you wolfy.” Derek is always a little bit feral when the full moon is approaching, but Stiles doesn’t mind. It just means he’s extra cuddly, or likes to shift and lay his head in Stiles’s lap to be petted. It’s a weird type of intimacy, but Stiles is glad Derek trusts him with it. 

“Okay, then,” Derek says. “Christmas Eve it is.” 

# 

What to buy for the werewolf who has nothing? 

Stiles really does consider himself a master at Christmas presents, but Derek is tricky. He’s the opposite of materialistic, has no preferences on television or music that Stiles can tease out of him, and would be almost certain to kill a houseplant or fish within a week. 

He has plenty of free time to devote himself to figuring it out. Without lacrosse his afternoons are yawning, empty pits of boredom. Scott offers to quit the team out of solidarity, but Stiles won’t let him do that. The homework for the omega classes he’s forced to take is ridiculously easy, or just plain offensive— _find a recipe that would appeal to your alpha when he’s feeling sick! Match the cleaning product to the surface on which it can be used!_

Such bullshit. At least Scott still lets Stiles do his homework for his upper-level classes. God knows he never would have passed biology without Stiles. 

He swears his coursework gets dumber by the day, so it’s a huge relief when the last day of classes come. His omega classes don’t have any midterms, since omegas don’t technically get grades, just reports on their progress sent to OSS. It’s just lousy holiday party after lousy holiday party, only broken up by his visit to the nurse for his heat and birth control pills. 

Omegas can’t be trusted to remember their pills every day on their own, so the school nurse is in charge of doling them out during the school week. Stiles sits through a lecture he’s heard a thousand times before about the importance of taking his pills over the break, accepting the note he’s supposed to give to his dad to make sure Stiles doesn’t fuck it up. Stiles’s father is always more than willing to give Stiles his independence, perfectly content with leaving Stiles home alone without a babysitter and trusting him to take his pills without reminder, but Stiles knows better than to tell the nurse that. 

“These are all the pills you’ll need for the next two weeks,” the nurse practically coos at him as she hands him an orange bottle. “That means you should take the very last pill in the bottle the day before school starts back up. If you don’t take them correctly and have more than one pill left on that day, you have to report to OSS immediately so they can make sure your heat schedule is re-regulated, all right?” 

“Gotcha,” Stiles says, dropping the pills in his bag. 

“Now, this is a new prescription for you, so don’t be alarmed if you feel a little funky after starting.” The nurse gives him a cheerful smile. “Apparently your profile is generating a _lot_ of interest with qualified alphas, so OSS wants to make sure you’re ready to go by graduation!” 

Stiles freezes. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, alphas like to know what the eligible crop of omegas are like before bidding opens, so your profile was made available for review in September. If you keep up the good work, it looks like you’ll have more than one bid for a contract, so OSS can pick the very best for you! But don’t go telling anybody that; you wouldn’t want to make the other omegas jealous.” 

_Qualified alphas._ Stiles’s mind races for the rest of the day as he tries to picture them, strangers wanting to mate him just based on a picture and some statistics. It could be anybody in Beacon Hills. 

Anybody except Derek. 

Thinking about it, coupled with his new prescription, makes him feel sick by the time he gets home. He’s not meeting Derek again until Christmas Eve so there’s nothing to do except sit with his fears. When his dad gets home and they eat dinner Stiles barely hears a word he says. 

“Hey,” his dad says finally, putting down his fork. “What’s wrong, Stiles?” 

Stiles shakes his head. 

“ _Stiles_.” His dad puts on his sheriff-voice. “Did something happen at school?” 

There’s no point in lying; his dad will get it out of him eventually. “Alphas have been looking at my profile,” Stiles says. “Apparently there are a few who want me.” 

John winces. “Oh.” 

“Dad, I…I only have a few more months.” Stiles’s throat feels closed-up. “I don’t want to be mated to somebody I don’t know. I don’t want to disappear. Practically every day you go out on domestic disturbance calls, but you can’t _do_ anything when omegas are being abused. That could be me in just a few months.” 

John gets up out of his seat and takes a knee beside Stiles. “Listen to me,” he says seriously. “If you were ever in a situation like that, I’d get you out. I don’t care what I’d have to do. Nobody will ever hurt you on my watch, kid. Okay?” 

Stiles nods, but if he gets an abusive alpha, there’s not much John can do. Once Stiles is mated, his dad has no more right to him. And interfering with another family unit is a serious crime. Trying to rescue an omega from an abusive home never turns out well for anyone. 

“Stiles,” his dad says carefully. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

Stiles stares at his father. John’s gaze is steady and knowing, and Stiles has a feeling that he hasn’t been hiding his secrets from his father quite as well as he thought. 

“I know,” he says. He can’t tell his dad about Derek. Not only because he’d promised Derek, but because, if things don’t work out, he doesn’t want his dad to know how close he’d come to happiness. 

His dad sits there with him for a while before suggesting he open a Christmas gift early, as though he’s a kid again and can be soothed by presents. It’s an X-box game, one that’s _definitely_ not OSS-approved, and Stiles and his dad end up playing it for two hours before Stiles finally feels better. 

He’s so lucky. He knows he is. He just hopes he can stay that way. 

# 

When he wakes up on Christmas Eve day, he feels…off. Sort of itchy and distracted. His dad is working the whole day so he can be home Christmas, and Stiles wanders the house, needing _contact_. 

It’s such a relief when he finally heads out to the woods and he practically runs the path, only to stop short when he gets to the clearing. 

Derek decorated. 

There are lights and wreaths up in the trees and a little sapling has been given the full Charlie Brown-Christmas treatment. Derek stands in the middle, hands in his pockets. “Merry Christmas,” he says. 

“Merry Christmas,” Stiles repeats. He puts down the bag of Main Street donuts and thermos of eggnog he’s brought so he can practically jump into Derek’s arms. Derek makes a sound of surprise, nosing into Stiles’s neck. “Whoa,” he says. 

Stiles closes his eyes, inhaling Derek’s scent. He feels an unsettled sense of urgency. “My profile,” he says. “With OSS. Have you seen it?” 

Derek hesitates. “Yeah.” 

“What does it say?” 

“It’s got a picture. A good one. And some stats. It talks about you being the Sherriff’s kid, and your health history. It’s…it’s not _you_. I didn’t like reviewing it, because it was obvious that it was put together by strangers. It says _nothing_ that’s really important.” 

“Did OSS say anything when you asked to see it?” 

Derek looks pained. “Stiles…” 

“Tell me.” 

Derek sighs. “They told me not to waste my time looking at something I would never get,” he admits quietly. 

Stiles feels like everything is breaking apart inside of him. “Oh, my God, Derek. Oh my God.” 

“I’m doing everything I can, Stiles. I’m moving up at work, renovating the house…I asked my doctor about pills to suppress my wolf, or at least ensure that I wouldn’t pass it on to my kids. I— I’m trying to be good enough for them. For _you_. And I’ve been saving up money to bribe OSS officials when it’s time to put in my bid in case none of that works.” 

“You should bite me,” Stiles says desperately. “If I was a werewolf, nobody else would want me.” 

“Jesus, Stiles, no. You could die. I won’t do that to you. And if I was accused of biting someone— well, if the hunters didn’t get me, the police would.” Derek puts his hands on his shoulders. “Stiles, I promise you, I’m going to spend the next six months doing everything in my power to get a contract. But right now— all I want is to enjoy what we have, in case we _do_ lose it.” 

Stiles closes his eyes and nods. “You’re right,” he says. He takes a breath. Derek’s scent seems…different. The itching Stiles has been feeling all day changes, as though he’s finally found the source and now just wants to dig his fingers in and scratch. 

He kisses Derek, winding his arms around Derek’s neck. Derek makes an appreciative sound, kissing him back until Stiles is warmed all the way to his toes. “Okay,” Derek mumbles after a while, trying to pull away. “That’s— that’s probably…” 

Stiles shakes his head, keeping himself pressed to Derek. He kisses the underside of Derek’s neck, baring his own because he knows Derek likes to nuzzle in there on full moon days. “ _Stiles_ ,” Derek warns. “This is getting…” 

“I know. I don’t want to stop, Derek.” Stiles is gasping for air. He pulls his shirt over his head and Derek groans. 

“Come on,” he protests weakly. “I’m trying to think straight here, and your scent is making it—” 

Stiles stops what he’s doing, even though every cell in his body screams at him to keep going. “I want this,” he says. “Derek, in six months, I’m probably going to _belong_ to somebody. And that means I don’t get to make my own choices anymore. But right now, I only belong to myself, and I get to make my own choices, and I choose _this_ ; I choose _you_.” He forces himself to take a few steps back, so Derek can decide without the influence of Stiles’s scent. “Soon I won’t have the luxury of saying yes or no. So right now, with you, I’m saying yes. What do you say?” 

Derek closes his eyes. He sucks in a deep lungful of air. When he opens his eyes again, they’re a flaming, lusty red. “Yes,” he says hoarsely. 

The ground is cold, nearly frozen, but Derek lays him down on it gently. Stiles’s hands go to the tiny buttons at the neck of Derek’s Henley, but the werewolf stops him with a little grin. “You don’t have to do that,” he says before just pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it aside. 

Oh. _Oh_. Stiles’s pants suddenly feel way too tight and he does his best to shimmy out of them. Derek helps him while kissing down his neck. “Knees,” he mutters, and Stiles struggles to rise so his ass is in the air. Derek gets his underwear off. “Fuck, baby,” he whispers. “You’re wet.” 

Stiles nods. His heat control pills let him produce slick; they just block his fertile cycle. “Since I’m on my pills there won’t be much, so you’re going to have to be careful.” He wishes he brought lube or something; the last thing he needs is to explain an anal fissure to OSS. 

“No, there’s…there’s a lot— _shit,_ Stiles.” Derek sounds punch-drunk and Stiles moans when he feels Derek’s tongue. It’s like he’s opening up, every cell in his body rearranging to make room for Derek. He braces his elbows against the ground and pushes his hips back in a silent plea for more. 

And Derek gives it to him. After he’s eaten Stiles out he braces one arm around his waist and uses his other hand to finger Stiles open. He gets two in and then hesitates. “This should be enough,” he says roughly. “We shouldn’t knot— that’s too dangerous—” 

But Stiles’s body is _way_ too invested in the proceedings to settle for anything less than a proper, full-fledged knotting. “I’m on my pills,” he practically begs. “Nothing bad will happen. Knot me, Derek, _please_.” 

Derek hesitates for about a millisecond, before groaning, “ _Fuck!_ ” one more time and adding a third finger. 

And it’s _so_ good, it’s the best thing Stiles has ever felt. When Derek’s hand finds and strokes his cock, giving him the pleasure he’s always been taught is not his to have during a knotting, he thinks he sees stars. Derek takes his fingers away and Stiles just keeps driving his hips back, searching, until Derek thrusts inside of him. 

It shouldn’t feel this good with his heat control pills essentially rendering him sexless, but he’s sure as fuck not complaining. He comes around Derek’s hand just as the knot forms and they collapse together on the ground, tied together for at least twenty minutes. Derek buries his nose in Stiles’s neck. “Stiles,” he mumbles. 

Stiles grips his hand. “I love you,” he says. 

Derek huffs a laugh. “I was just about to say that.” 

“I know. I wanted to beat you to it. I’m competitive like that.” Stiles closes his eyes, brain slowly catching up to what they just did. 

He doesn’t regret it. Not at all. But he understands better than ever why it is forbidden. An omega who has been loved can never settle for a lifetime of being obedient. He feels worthy of choice; love; life. He feels like a _person_ , not just a womb. It feels dizzying. It feels _amazing_. 

“This isn’t a goodbye,” Derek says. “I’m going to get that contract. We’re going to stay together, Stiles. I promise.” 

And today a promise is good enough. Today, it’s everything. So Stiles just nods, sinking into Derek’s embrace, while Christmas lights beam down on them both.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the enthusiastic response to chapter one! You're the best around!  
> As of today I'm officially halfway done with law school and finished with the semester even my grandmother has started calling "the one from hell." So I'm celebrating by writing Sterek as fast as my fingers can go. Depending on how travel plans work out, hopefully chapter three will be up tomorrow!

“We really can’t do that again,” Derek says an hour later. 

Stiles makes a noncommittal sound. He’s really not in the mood to talk. For the first time in his life, he truly appreciates the value of _silence._ He’s pressed up tight against Derek’s naked body, feeling vaguely dreamy and buzzed, and all he wants to do is savor the moment. 

“Stiles…” 

“I know. You’re right.” The aching need Stiles had felt is gone now, but he still cranes his head to give Derek a kiss. The sun has set, so Derek is illuminated by the Christmas lights in the clearing. 

He’s beautiful. Stiles knows alphas aren’t supposed to be called beautiful; that’s just for omegas, but Derek _is_. Maybe it’s those high cheekbones, or the full mouth, or just the look he’s giving Stiles, as if he’s thinking the exact same thing about him. It baffles Stiles that people can look at him and see a monster.

“It seems kind of anticlimactic now, but I do have a Christmas present for you,” Derek says after a few more moments of silence. 

“Two presents in one day? I must have been such a good boy this year.” 

Derek snorts at him, and it’s a relief to know that everything is still the same. “You probably won’t like this one as much as the last one, but let me grab it.” 

“Sounds good.” Stiles looks down at the arm Derek has securely wrapped around his middle, protecting him from the cold air. “I’m kind of not in the mood for you to let me go, so how about we just kind of scoot over there together and grab it?” 

“I’m not sliding on my naked ass.” Derek somehow manages to grab their clothes and help Stiles wiggle into his jeans before he goes to grab the tiny box— wrapped with way too much tape— from where he’s stored it beneath a tree. 

Stiles unwraps it and pulls out a flat wooden carving. It’s a sun, the tendrils intricately sculpted, and inside, with its head tilted up as if to howl, is a wolf. The entire thing is small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, but it’s detailed enough that Stiles can see the ridges on the wolf’s fur. 

“I know it’s tiny,” Derek says sheepishly. “I figured you could punch a hole in the top and put it on a chain, or just keep it in your pocket for luck, or whatever. I didn’t want it to be so big that it would draw attention if someone saw… 

“I love it.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes.” Stiles traces the lines of the wolf. “I didn’t know you could do this, Der. It’s amazing.” 

A pleased flush works its way up Derek’s cheeks. “My mom used to whittle. She was teaching me, and then I started teaching myself.” 

“I’ll keep it in my pocket all the time. I’ll keep it no matter what, okay?” 

Derek kisses him and presses their foreheads together for a moment. “Okay.” 

Stiles grabs his own gift for Derek, also covered in way too much tape. Derek carelessly flicks out a claw and slices it open, which, _cheater._ He lifts out the paper first, brow furrowed in confusion, and Stiles waits for him to get it. 

When he finally does he inhales slowly. “Stiles,” he says, just looking at it. 

“It’s kind of silly, I know.” Stiles watches Derek read it over. It’s a mock contract, with almost the exact wording OSS uses. Save for a few key changes. The absurd sexism is eradicated, and line: _On this date the omega [blank] does swear to pledge his life and body to the Alpha [blank]_ is changed to _On this date the omega Stiles Stilinski does swear he loves the Alpha Derek Hale_. “See, part of the present was supposed to be me saying I love you for the first time. But I sort of jumped the gun back there.” 

“Yeah, well, you know what they say. Always get it in writing.” Derek folds it carefully. “I love it.” 

“Good. And, uh, the other thing…” 

Derek lifts out the white lace pair of panties and looks at Stiles with one eyebrow raised. “Yes, _please_ explain the _other thing_.” 

“I’m going to wear that the night we get mated.” 

Derek grins. “Then we better take _very_ good care of it.” He folds it just as carefully as the contract and pulls Stiles into another hug. “Thank you.” 

“See, I know it’s cheesy. But it’s supposed to be, like, a box of love and hope. You know?” 

“That is cheesy,” Derek agrees, but he kisses Stiles anyway. 

They stay in the clearing for as long as possible, until it’s dark and most of the Christmas lights have flickered out. When it’s so cold Stiles’s teeth are chattering Derek shifts and walks him home. At the place where the trees meet the backyard Stiles stoops and puts his hands on Derek’s nape. “Merry Christmas,” he says. “I love you.” 

Derek licks him sloppily and then lopes off back through the trees. 

# 

Stiles is honestly a little surprised that no one points a finger and shrieks, “ _J’accuse!_ ” at him over the next month. He feels different— as in, ten feet taller and five years older and truly superior to anyone who hasn’t had the very good fortune to be knotted by Derek Hale in a forest clearing. 

When he gets back to school the nurse calls him down to the office and takes a couple samples, which freaks him out, but she assures him that everything’s fine and he doesn’t really feel like caring. Whenever he’s not with Derek he wants to be with Derek; whenever he is with Derek he’s perfectly content with the world. He completely checks out of his classes and just stares around the room, pitying everyone who isn’t in love with Derek Hale. What a hard life they must lead. 

It’s Scott who finally notices something’s up with him. One day Stiles comes back from a meeting with Derek to see Scott in his backyard, staring suspiciously at him as he steps out of the trees. 

“Uh,” Stiles says. “Hi?” 

“What the hell were you doing in the woods?” 

Stiles thinks fast. “Birdwatching.” Oh boy. Should have thought a little slower. 

“ _Birdwatching?_ It’s January.” 

“Yeah. It’s uh, extreme birdwatching. Solely for the diehards.” Scott just stares at him and Stiles fidgets. “Today I saw a bluebird,” he says, the words accidentally coming out way more defensive than he intended. 

“You are totally lying to me.” 

“Nope.” Stiles heads into the house, Scott trailing him. “I’ve always loved birds, and if you didn’t know that about me, you just weren’t paying attention. Want a drink?” 

“I want to know what you were doing out there.” 

“We have Coke!” 

“You know I’m going to find out, right?” 

“Nothing to find out, Scotty. Let’s play!” Stiles goes into the living room and boots up the player. Scott comes in and takes a seat, but Stiles can feel his eyes suspiciously watching him for the entire game. 

# 

“So, anyway, now I have to forge an entire birdwatching journal and give it to him,” Stiles finishes the next day, kicking Derek in annoyance when he won’t stop laughing. “Which is going to be hard, because I know nothing about birds and don’t care to learn.” 

“The red ones are robins, and the blue ones are bluebirds.” Derek raises his hands when Stiles kicks him again. “Okay, okay! The red ones are also called cardinals.” 

“Ugh, I hate you almost as much as I hate birds.” 

“Anything I can do to change that?” Derek slips a hand under Stiles’s shirt, Stiles retaliates by slipping a hand into Derek’s pants, and they eventually compromise with a good old fashioned makeout session. Stiles is just starting to lose himself in the heat of it when Derek stops, tilting his head away. 

“What is it?” 

“I heard something.” 

“You did?” Stiles concentrates, but the woods are completely silent. “Are you sure?” 

Derek shakes it off. “Never mind. Maybe it was a bird.” He grins at Stiles. “Care to confirm, expert?” 

“An arctic tern, probably,” Stiles agree, and they go back to kissing for a very enjoyable half hour. As always, it’s Derek who insists on being the responsible one and calls an end to it. “It’s harder now,” he admits when Stiles complains. “All I want to do is just be with you and…protect you…and…I don’t even know _what_. It’s like my body already accepted you as my mate and this just… _sucks_.” 

Stiles sighs. He knows how Derek feels. “Thursday, same time same place?” 

“Yeah. Can you get home okay?” 

“Sure.” Stiles sneaks in one more kiss before pulling himself away and hurrying home. Scott isn’t lying in wait for him today and he heads into the house, grabbing the teakettle to he can fill it up for hot chocolate. The red message light is blinking so he presses it and stars pouring water into the kettle. 

“ _Stiles? It’s Dad. If you’re there, pick up, buddy.”_

Stiles freezes. His dad never calls him on duty. “ _Stiles, when you get this, come to the hospital right away. Please don’t drive too fast, be safe, but... it’s Scott. You should get here quickly._ ” 

The teakettle falls to the ground. By the next day the water will have warped the wood flooring, but Stiles is gone before he can even see it spill. 

# 

Omegas aren’t supposed to drive. They aren’t allowed licenses, but only those from the most traditional families never take a turn behind the wheel. It’s the sort of restriction that almost everyone looks the other way on, and Stiles had gone so far as to learn how to drive by the time he was fourteen. He’d taught Scott, since his alpha parent was never around. They’d nearly crashed the truck John had bought for Stiles; the one he told everyone was just his fixer-upper project. 

Is that what happened? Had Scott crashed? Stiles’s hands are trembling so badly as he drives that he almost can’t put on his turn signal to turn into the hospital 

Scott is on the fourth floor, _trauma._ Stiles can hear his dad trying to calm down Melissa, Scott’s mom, as he rounds the corner, and when he sees his father he nearly loses it completely. 

Stiles and his dad have a deal. John isn’t allowed to die on duty, and Stiles isn’t allowed to die while his dad is on duty. John always said that there would be nothing worse than having to wear his badge and be expected to still be the Sheriff when standing over his son’s body. As Stiles watches his father trying to calm Melissa down, hat on his head and tears in his eyes, he gets it. His dad has to do his job. The grief has to wait. 

But if his dad is here in his capacity as Sheriff, that has to mean someone put Scott here. Someone hurt him. 

“Dad? What happened?” 

John looks at Stiles, relief that Stiles isn’t where Scott is flickering across his face. “He’s alive. The doctors aren’t really talking to us, but…” 

“They won’t be able to save him,” Melissa says tonelessly, sliding down the wall to collapse onto the floor. “It’s already done.” 

Stiles panics. “Dad?” 

“No, he’s… he’s not going to die. He’s _probably_ not going to die. But Stiles…” John’s voice cracks. “He was attacked by a werewolf. He was bitten.” 

Stiles stares at him. A _werewolf?_ It can’t be. There’s only one werewolf in Beacon Hills. “But…” 

“The doctor said if he survived the bite in the first ten minutes we wouldn’t lose him. They’re trying to reverse it, but I don’t think there’s any way.” 

“Scott’s a werewolf now?” Stiles is shaking. 

“A shame, isn’t it?” 

Stiles turns to see a familiar-looking alpha woman striding down the hall. There are a few men behind her, each looking just as snide and menacing as the next. Stiles’s stomach seizes. Kate Argent. Daughter of Gerard Argent, one of the biggest crime lords in Beacon Hills. His dad has been trying to take them down for years, but the Argents are ruthless. 

They’re also the people who burned down Derek’s house and killed his family. Everyone in Beacon Hills knows. Derek knows. He doesn’t like to talk about it. 

“So, Sheriff, the question is, why are you in here and _not_ out there hunting down the beast that did it?” Kate comes to a stop, one hand at the gun on her hip. 

John looks at her with obvious dislike. “I can’t do anything until Scott tells me what happened.” 

“Really? You think he’ll tell you it was one of the _other_ wolves in Beacon Hills who did this to him?” Kate’s lip curls. “You know as well as I do that Derek Hale bit that kid. Your pup’s gone rabid, _John_. Why don’t we put him down for you?” 

John’s eyes flash. “I thought I told you and your family years ago that if anything happened to Derek Hale I’d put you away for good.” 

“I know, I know. You’re so soft on monsters, and now look where it’s got us?” Kate jerks her thumb down the hall. “The kid’s _ruined_. You think he’ll ever get mated now? Ever have kids? Ever feel normal for the rest of his life?” 

Melissa, still on the floor, lets out a dry sob. 

“I’ll get an arrest warrant for Derek Hale,” John says quietly. “But nobody takes the law into their own hands in my town, Kate. Got it?” 

Kate just laughs. “Sure. You get that warrant. We’ll see who gets to him first, hm? And even if you beat us there…there isn’t a jail cell with a lock strong enough that stop us from stringing that bastard up. Trust me, John, no judge in this town is going to let you arrest us for doing what _you_ didn’t have the balls to do.” 

John doesn’t answer. Kate steps away, gestures to the men behind her, and strides back down the hall. 

“Fuck,” John mutters. “Fuck!” 

“It wasn’t him,” Stiles says hoarsely. “Dad, it wasn’t Derek Hale. It couldn’t have been!” 

“Look, Stiles, I don’t know if it was or not, but at this point, jail is the safest place for him. I have to call Parrish.” John steps away, pulling out his phone. 

Stiles shuts his eyes. He knows Derek didn’t bite Scott, because he’d been with Derek when it happened. But Derek won’t have an alibi. And the Argents… 

He throws a helpless look to Melissa, still sobbing against the wall, and then chases after Kate. She’s gone into an empty room and Stiles hovers outside to listen. 

“We’ll need everyone for this. He’s probably on the run…goddamn it, he’s not picking— Duke? That you?” 

She must be on the phone with Deucalion, Beacon Hills’ _other_ most notorious uncaught criminal. Stiles’s dad has suspected for a while that he’s been working with the Argents. 

“I’m at the hospital. The kid’s going to live. Yeah, well, we’ll worry about that later. We have to exterminate the Hale line first. We’ll need all your guys for this; you know the woods better than we do. If he’s not on the run, he’ll be holed up at his home. Hell, if he was wolfed out, he might not even remember it. He could be taking a fucking nap right now. My father will bring mountain ash and kerosene; we’ll trap him inside and just torch it again. Get your guys to our place as soon as possible.” 

For the second time today, Stiles runs. 

# 

He’s never been to the Hale house before. It’s a wreck, looking like it ought to be condemned, but when Stiles gets there he thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen because it’s still standing. 

He skids to a stop in the leaves outside and races to the front door. He pounds on it and hears footsteps inside. When Derek opens the door, he’s got a paperback in his hand, thumb marking the place. He’s barefoot and wearing his glasses. He looks relaxed, completely at home in this hovel, a frown creasing his forehead at the sight of Stiles. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Stiles gasps for breath. “Scott…Scott was bitten. By a werewolf.” 

The blood drains out of Derek’s face. “It wasn’t me. I was with you— ” 

“I know, I know! But the Argents know he was bitten and they think it was you. They’re going to kill you— my dad is trying to get an arrest warrant so he can take you first, but they said they’d just go to the jail and kill you there. Derek— you have to get out of here.” 

Derek shakes his head. “If I run I’ll just look guilty.” 

“ _They don’t care_. Derek, they’re going to kill you. Once everyone finds out about Scott the whole town will want you dead. You have to run, okay? You have to run faster than you’ve ever run before. Maybe Scott will be able to tell my dad it was another wolf. If not, I’ll do whatever I have to do to clear your name. But you can’t be here right now.” 

Derek looks around at the house and the woods. “Stiles,” he says hopelessly. “If I run— if this isn’t cleared up by graduation— ” 

“I know.” 

No contract. No mating. Nothing more between them, forever. 

Three precious seconds pass. Derek shuts his eyes. “Come with me,” he says. 

Stiles hadn’t expected that, and it takes him a few seconds. He could go on the run with Derek. Fuck the OSS, fuck the Argents, fuck everything. 

But Scott. He doesn’t even know if Scott is still alive. And his dad… 

“I can’t,” he whispers. 

Derek nods. “Yeah.” He takes a breath. “I know.” 

“I’m sorry…” 

“It’s okay.” Derek touches his cheek. “I’ll come back, okay? I promise I’ll come back.” 

Stiles wants to grab his hand. He wants to grab time by the reigns and slow it; reverse it. This shouldn’t be happening to them. They were supposed to be okay. They were supposed to still have five more months of love and hope before everything feel apart. 

“Wait here,” Derek says, and disappears up the stairs. He reappears moments later and presses something into Stiles’s hand. The stupid fake contract Stiles had made him. Of course. If his house is searched, they can’t find this. “Take care of this for me, okay?” 

Stiles nods, past words. Derek kisses him, one hand on his chest, as if to tell him, _stay_. Stiles keeps his eyes closed as Derek shifts and opens them just in time to see the black wolf streaking away. 

Stiles watches until there’s nothing on the horizon, then falls to his knees and vomits onto the dried leaves. 

# 

When his dad asks him where he went, he lies and says he went down to the hospital chapel to pray. It’s a mark of how stressed his father must be that he doesn’t immediately fall over laughing at that bald-faced lie, just nods and walks away to do something else. 

Stiles stays at the hospital, waiting to see Scott. He hears the news in trickles. Derek got away. The police and the Argents are both out searching for him, but, as John says grimly, he could be anywhere by now. 

Derek is safe. That’s a good thing, but it feels like something so small to settle for. He’s not just supposed to be safe. He’s supposed to be _here._

Finally Stiles is allowed to see Scott. His best friend is in a hospital bed, restrained by heavy cuffs keeping his hands locked to the sides of the bed. They’re worried he might shift. Stiles watches the nurse move one of Scott’s pillows, clear disgust on her face. He wants to kill her. 

“Scotty, what happened?” Stiles sinks down to sit in a chair, ordering himself not to do something stupid like crying. 

Scott grins sheepishly. “Well, I…I went out into the woods to find you actually. I thought I’d catch you in the act of…whatever you do out there.” 

“Oh, my God.” Stiles shuts his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Scott. This is all my fault.” 

“No, it was my own fault. It was dumb. But I got kind of lost and before I knew it he was just _there_. This gigantic wolf. He bit me so fast I didn’t even realize it. Then he ran, and I scrambled to get out of the woods. By the time I got out it started hurting so I called the police.” 

“You don’t know who it was?” 

Scott shrugs. “It was a wolf, dude. Could have been anyone.” 

Stiles takes a breath and leans in. “Listen to me. It wasn’t Derek Hale. Okay?” 

“Uh…it wasn’t?” 

“No. You just have to trust me, okay? I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t know a hundred percent.” 

Scott looks at him quizzically for a second, then nods. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, man. If you say it wasn’t him, it wasn’t him.” 

“Thank you.” Stiles grabs Scott’s hand. He’s never been attracted to the alpha, but he could kiss him right now. “Scott, I promise you, I’m not going to let you go through this alone, okay? No matter what happens, no matter what shit people try to start, I’m not going to leave.” 

Scott smiles at him. He looks tired, but okay. Knowing Scott, it probably hasn't really sunk in yet. “I know, Stiles. Thanks.” 

Stiles wants to say a lot of other probably unforgivably mushy things, but at that moment his dad knocks and sticks his head in. “Sorry to interrupt, boys. But Scott, we really have to talk about what happened to you out there.” 

“Sure. Can Stiles stay?” 

“Of course. Your mom’s here too.” John comes in with Melissa right behind him. She kisses her son on the forehead, pretending not to look at the handcuffs. “Okay, son. Did you see who did this to you?” 

“It wasn’t Derek Hale,” Scott says dutifully, pointedly not looking at Stiles. 

John raises an eyebrow. “Okay. Who was it?” 

“Well…I don’t know. It was a wolf.” 

“But you could tell it wasn’t Derek Hale?” 

Scott shifts uncomfortably. They really could have used, like, ten more minutes to work through a believable story. “Right.” 

“How did you know it wasn’t Derek?” 

Scott scrunches up his face. “Um…it didn’t look like him?” 

Even Stiles has to give Scott an _are-you-serious_ look at that. 

“It didn’t look like him,” John repeats. “Okay. Well, that might not be enough to take him off our short list, but thanks for letting me know. Do you remember anything else?” 

Scott shakes his head. John spends a few more minutes on him, but there’s no blood from this stone and eventually he thanks Scott and stands to leave. Melissa goes with him to see if they can get him some padded cuffs at least. 

As soon as they’re gone Stiles snorts. He doesn’t really feel like laughing right now, but _shit_. “It didn’t look like him,” he mimics. “That has to be one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard.” 

“Shut up, dude.” Scott is laughing too. “You being a birdwatcher was way dumber.” 

# 

A week without Derek. 

Stiles has never really thought about how pointless life is. Just empty, lonely days. Waiting for the next terrible thing to happen. 

He tries to figure out who Scott’s attacker must be, but short of wandering out in the woods in the hopes of getting jumped by it there isn’t much he can do. Scott remembers nothing. For all Stiles knows, it was some wandering werewolf that’s halfway across the country by now. 

Scott goes back to school, where everyone but Stiles gives him a wide berth. It hurts him. He spends most afternoons at Stiles’s house, and it’s nice to be with him, but Stiles still misses Derek so much it aches. 

He goes to the clearing a few times. He doesn’t expect anything. It’s just nice to be there. 

# 

Two weeks without Derek. 

There must be some sort of alpha withdrawal thing, because Stiles is sick almost every day. 

Scott goes through his first full moon. Stiles tries to help him through it; tries to explain that he can keep himself completely in control, but Scott can barely hear him over his cracking joints and cries of pain. 

It had been easier for Derek, but Derek lived his whole life this way. If he was here he could help Scott through it. 

But he’s gone. 

# 

Three weeks without Derek. 

Stiles’s dad come home to find him throwing up for the third time that day. “Do we need to go to the hospital?” he asks, crouching down beside him. 

Stiles shakes his head. “Just something I ate.” He knows that his father is supposed to take him to the hospital if there’s even the slightest hint something is wrong. An omega’s health is extremely important, and if there’s something seriously wrong it has to be fixed before an alpha gets a defective mate. 

“Okay.” When Stiles finishes puking John gets him to the couch, then sits down next to him. “You doing okay, buddy?” he asks softly. “Are you getting nervous about graduation?” 

Stiles is currently treating graduation like his death: it’s going to happen, but he’d rather not face it. “Dad?” he asks hoarsely. "Can you tell me about you and Mom?” 

“You mean when we first got mated?” 

Stiles nods. He’s heard this story before, but he wants to hear it again. He wants to feel like a kid reveling in his own parents’ love story. 

“Well, I wasn’t even going to try for a contract that year. I’d tried and failed a few years earlier…it wasn’t the right time for me, and I didn’t know anything about the omega I’d tried for, but it still hurt my pride. The other guys on the force were starting to rib me about it, so I went to look at the profiles.” John hesitates. “You know, since I was a cop, they said I could have my pick. But when I saw Claudia…I just knew she was the one. OSS told me to look at someone else. She had some black spots; she came from a broken home and she was outspoken. But she was the one I wanted.” 

“Had you ever seen her before?” 

“Never. I went to graduation so I could see her. She was the most beautiful girl in the world. When I got the notice the next day our contract had been approved I just about cried. She was nervous. Like you. She wasn’t sure what to expect from me. But the rules were the same back then— I had up to two weeks to get to know her before making things official. I took every day of that two weeks. She didn’t come to live with me until they were over. I remember packing us a picnic lunch and taking her to the beach. She’d never been, can you believe that? I wanted to take things slow. I knew I had the right to do anything to her, but what I wanted was to make her happy. Oh— Stiles, no, buddy. No.” 

Stiles is crying. He buries his face in his dad’s chest, entire body shaking. John holds him, bewildered, unable to do anything but rock him for hours. 

# 

Four weeks without Derek, and maybe he _should_ go to the hospital. He’s still sick; still dizzy. He’s starting to get scared. 

When he’s unexpectedly called to the school nurse the first week of March he decides he should tell her what’s going on. If it’s a health thing, maybe it’ll keep alphas away. Or maybe he only has another six weeks to live. At this point he’d expect anything. 

When he gets to the nurse’s office, she’s not alone. Jennifer Blake, an OSS worker Stiles is well-acquainted with, is there as well, flipping through a file with blood-red fingernails. She smiles when she sees him. “Hi there, Stiles.” 

“Hi.” Stiles takes a seat. Whenever the OSS is in the school, something’s wrong. But he hasn’t done anything, has he? Unless they know about Derek… 

Jennifer beams at him. “We have some very exciting news for you.” 

Stiles blinks. “Yeah?” 

“That’s right! You already know that you’ve had a lot of interested alphas looking at your profile. Well, we’ve decided you’re advanced enough that it isn’t necessary to wait for graduation before getting you settled. We’ve chosen an alpha for you, and we’re going to have you finish up school by spring break in three weeks. Over the break we’ll transfer you into your alpha’s household.” 

If anything was going to wake Stiles from his funk, this is it. “W-what?’ His voice cracks. “But…I’m guaranteed an education. You have to let me finish school. It’s the law.” 

Jennifer looks a little disappointed that he isn’t jumping for joy. “Well, remember that the OSS is allowed to override that if it’s in your best interest. We think you being mated is. And your alpha— well, he’s _very_ motivated to get a contract with you.” 

Something about the word, about the twist she puts on it, clicks it into place. The OSS is being bribed. An alpha is bribing OSS to take away his last three months of freedom. “Who?” he whispers. 

“We can’t tell you that until you’ve legally been placed into his care. But you’re going to be very happy.” 

Stiles thinks he’s going to be sick again. “Why?” he begs. “Why me? Why does he want me this badly?” 

Jennifer keep smiling patiently. “Well, Stiles, you’re special.” 

“No, I’m not!” 

Jennifer and the nurse exchange looks. The nurse grimaces a little, eyes rolling up. _Difficult,_ she mouths. 

Yeah, that’s fucking right. He’s _difficult_. He’s an outspoken omega and alphas _shouldn’t_ want him this much. “Tell me why,” he demands. 

Jennifer’s smile is a little sour now, but she keeps it on. “Well, I’d be lying if I said your family name didn’t have something to do with it.” 

“ _Family name?_ ” 

She nods. “That’s important to…some people.” 

It takes him a second. And then he gets it. _Family name_. Stilinski. He’s the son of the sheriff. 

There are hundreds of people in Beacon Hills, from the Argents to Deucalion to more Stiles probably doesn’t even know, who are constantly at odds with the sheriff’s department. But if they had the sheriff’s kid, a constant living hostage, legally allowed to do whatever they wanted with him… 

No wonder so many people had been interested in his profile. 

This alpha wants to use him against his dad. He’s bribing OSS to make it happen. And _they know it_. 

Stiles’s head is buzzing so loudly he almost doesn’t hear Jennifer’s next words. “We’ve actually been planning this for a while, making sure it really was in your best interest. We actually had you go through a heat just to make sure your body was mature enough—” 

“No, you didn’t,” Stiles says abruptly, not really caring if he comes off rude. “I’ve never been through a heat.” 

“Yes, sweetie, you did,” Jennifer says patiently. “Remember when we switched your pills over Christmas break? Those were sugar pills. We had to do it when you wouldn’t be around alphas. You probably didn’t notice, since it was your first one, very lowkey. We took some samples when you got back to see how you did.” 

“Your numbers were excellent,” the nurse says. “I’ve never seen an unbonded omega with such balanced hormone levels.” 

“Unbonded?” Stiles whispers. 

“Without a heat partner to stabilize you.” 

“I…I was in heat? But…” 

“It was in your best interest,” Jennifer says again. “We actually need to take a few more samples today, just so we can put a bow on this whole thing. I’m afraid we’ll have to stick you with one of the needles to take some blood, it’ll just be a pinch…” 

Stiles lets them do what they have to do. He doesn’t hear another word they say and when they dismiss him he wanders the hall until he starts to feel sick, then ducks into the bathroom to vomit. 

Things start moving around in his head. Sliding into place. Making a terrible sort of sense. 

He’d been in heat when he was with Derek. 

He’d been at the peak of his fertile cycle. 

He hadn’t had any kind of birth control. 

He’s been sick ever since. 

Heat. Knotting. Sick. 

He heaves over the toilet. 

_Pregnant._

# 

He ditches Scott after school to book it home. He doesn’t know what to do. Of all the things omegas aren’t allowed to do, _get pregnant before mating_ is the top of the list. 

He goes out to the woods for a while, hoping against hope Derek will be there. But nobody comes. 

He is so, so screwed. He presses his hands to his belly, trying to come to terms with this. There’s a _baby_ in there. In, God, _seven months_ it’s going to be ready to actually enter the world. 

He goes back home because he doesn’t want to get sick in the dirt. The entire house smells of his bile and panic. 

If OSS finds out… 

He freezes. 

_If OSS finds out_. 

They’d taken his blood today for testing. 

At two months, the pregnancy will show up. 

They’ll know. They probably know already. 

Stiles doesn’t think. He just runs to his room, grabs a duffle bag and shoves anything he might need into it. Clothes, money, anything that ties him to Derek. He can barely zip it, but he manages, and he’s galloping down the hallways when he hears the door downstairs open. 

“Stiles? You here? I got off early, I figured— ” his dad rounds the corner and sees him standing like a deer in headlights, bag hanging off his shoulder. “What’s going on?” 

“Dad,” Stiles whispers. 

“Are you going somewhere?” 

“Dad, I…I messed up. I did something really stupid.” Stiles fights back tears. “I have to get out of here; I’m in trouble like you can’t even imagine. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but they’re going to come for me, and if they catch me— ” 

John’s gaze searches him. “Who? OSS?” 

Stiles nods. He knows what his dad is supposed to do with a runaway omega. Restrain him. Call OSS. Cuff him if necessary, so long as he's remanded into the proper custody and taken away. 

John hesitates for about half a second, then steps aside. “Go. Run. Hide in the woods. Go in as deep as you can without getting lost. Stay out there, all right?” He grabs a red shirt of Stiles’s off the laundry pile on the couch. “When it’s safe for you to come home, I’ll put this in the window in the kitchen, so you can see it from the woods.” 

“Okay.” Stiles lets himself have three seconds to hug his dad. “I love you, dad. I’m so sorry. I’m _so, so sorry_.” 

“It’s okay.” His dad cups his cheeks. "I love you too, Stiles. You _run_ , kid. If they come, I’ll tell them I haven’t seen you.” 

Stiles nods and heads for the back door. The sun has set and the woods look menacing, but he needs the darkness to hide. He crosses the backyard when he hears wheels crunching in the driveway. 

_They’re here._ He freezes, exposed between the house and the woods. 

“Hey!” someone shouts, a beam from a flashlight falling across him, and he runs. The branches tear at him, holding him back, and he struggles just to find the path. He needs Derek to lead the way, but Derek’s gone. He’s on his own. 

They’re chasing him. The ground is soft and muddy from last night’s rainstorm and he nearly wipes out a few times. He just has to lose them, and get deep enough that they can’t follow. 

He travels the path to the clearing unconsciously. That’s where they finally get him. Someone tackles him, sending him sprawling into the mud. A knee pins him to the ground. “Well, well,” a familiar voice says. “Going somewhere?” 

Stiles turns onto his stomach to see Jennifer, looking at him with absolute disgust. “We came to see if you knew what we turned up in your blood test,” she says. She puts a hand on his stomach and he cringes away, a nascent protective instinct urging him to protect that vulnerable place. “Looks like you know, huh?” 

He doesn’t respond, only turns his head away. The clearing looks so different at night. The ground is all town up from their shoes, sending globs of grass and mud to splatter the trees. He and Derek might never have been here. 

“Get him up,” Jennifer orders the OSS officers pinning him to the ground. They hoist him to his feet too quickly and he retches, doubling over. 

“Doesn’t feel so good now, does it, Stiles?” Jennifer forces his head up. “The price you pay for being a little slut isn’t half as nice as whoring around was, is it? And to think, you were _this close_ to getting through and getting an alpha. You know what you get now, don’t you?” 

He stares at her dumbly. This shouldn’t be happening to him. The world shouldn't be punishing him for what he did. It had been right, hadn't it? It had been _good_. But now... 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

For a moment, she almost looks like she pities him. “Trust me,” she says, holding him tightly as they take him back home. “You will be.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning in the end note!

Stiles isn’t allowed in the room when OSS forces his dad to sign the Dissolution of Guardianship papers transferring Stiles’s custody. It’s the absolute greatest shame for a parent, to acknowledge that they have failed to properly raise their omega and now the state must step in and do it for them. 

His dad isn’t a dad anymore, and it’s all his fault. 

When it’s done Jennifer comes back into the living room. “You have five minutes to pack,” she says. “Everything you take is subject to search.” 

The agents walk him upstairs and stand guard outside his room. Stiles opens his duffle again. There’s not much else he wants. But if they’re going to search his belongings… 

He takes out the contract he made for Derek. He remembers Derek’s giving it back to him: _Keep this safe for me._

But he has something else he has to keep safe for Derek now. 

He rips it to confetti and drops the pieces into his wastebasket. 

There’s a knock on the door. “Stiles?” John calls. “They’re going to let me say goodbye.” 

Stiles opens the door and John steps in. He wraps Stiles in a bear hug and Stiles holds on, wanting to stay where he is with everything inside of him. 

“I’m sorry, Dad,” he says again. “I’m so sorry.” 

John glances towards the closed door to make sure no one is listening. “Was it your choice?” 

Stiles nods. 

“Was it with someone you love? Was it…did it make you happy?” 

Stiles nods again. For a moment it’s almost like he’s back there, wrapped tight in Derek’s arms. The pain ebbs for that heartbeat and steadies him for the moments to come. 

“Then you don’t apologize for it. Okay? Not to anyone.” John squeezes him tightly and Stiles shakes in his embrace. 

“What are they going to do to me?” Stiles whispers. 

“I don’t know. But just get through, all right? And if you ever need to come back here…there will always be a red shirt in the window for you. This will always be a safe place, son. I promise.” 

Stiles doesn’t want the OSS to take him away crying. “Please eat healthy while I’m gone,” he says past a sandpaper-throat. 

“I will.” John hesitates. ‘Stiles…is there someone you want me to talk to? Someone who should know where you’re going?” 

Stiles’s heart lifts. His dad can find Derek, surely. And if anyone can break him free from the OSS, Derek can. He opens his mouth to respond and the door flies open. “Time’s up,” Jennifer says. 

They don’t even give him another second. One agent grabs his bag and the other takes him by the arm. “Dad,” Stiles says, starting to panic. He thinks of sleepovers, therapist appointments, first days of school; all the times when his father had taken him somewhere as a child and Stiles had freaked out at the moment when he was supposed to say goodbye. The therapist said it was because of his mom and it was just something they would have to work through. His dad would drive him around the block a few times, cracking jokes or just telling him that everything would be okay, until Stiles was ready to get out of the car and take the next step alone. 

John’s eyes are wet. “I love you, Stiles.” 

They carry him downstairs while the panic clogs his throat. He doesn’t want to go. This is his home. That’s his dad. He just needs another minute, another hug, _something_. 

When the agents lift him into the back of the OSS van he feels something jab into his leg. The carving Derek made him. It’s in his pocket. The realization almost sends him into a full-fledged panic attack. If they find it— 

They’ll have no idea what its significance is. 

It’s just a carving. Only Stiles knows that it’s something more. His lucky charm, like Derek had said. His wolf might not be in the sun right now, but Derek is still out there. He had promised to come back, and Derek Hale does not break promises. 

He relaxes even as they handcuff him to the seat. This is not the end for him. The knowledge that Derek will find him is as real as the charm in his pocket. He will get through this; he will survive; and Derek will come for him. He believes it absolutely. 

He forces himself not to look back when they drive him away. 

# 

He spends the night and most of the next day in the Beacon Hills OSS outpost before he’s hustled out to another van. No handcuffs this time, but Jennifer and another guard flank him so he can’t get the door open and jump. 

“Where are we going?” 

Jennifer buckles him in. “Eichen House. A facility for troubled omegas.” 

Stiles swallows hard. “What happens there?” 

“Rehabilitation.” 

Well, that sounds fun. Stiles shuts his eyes as the van bumps over rocky terrain. He really doesn’t want to get sick again. Throwing up this much, especially when there’s practically nothing in his stomach, can’t be good for the baby. 

The _baby_. 

His Development of Human Life class had been the closest thing to a real education he’d gotten since middle school and he’d devoured the coursework, so he knows exactly what’s going on inside his body right now. It’s a two-month-old fetus, doing it’s very best at the moment to accumulate enough cells to appear vaguely human. He tries to picture it as a real laughing, cooing baby, maybe with Derek’s eyebrows, but his brain just kind of flashes an **Error 8** and shuts down. 

Does he want this baby? Yes. No. He has no idea. The van hits an especially large rock and goes airborne for a moment, making Stiles groan. 

“Throw up and you’ll be sitting in it the rest of the way,” Jennifer says, flicking a page in the report she’s reading without even glancing at him. 

Stiles grits his teeth. “You really know how to soothe a troubled soul, Miss Blake.” 

There’s not much point in being polite anymore, is there? 

”Hm. Back talking. I’ll be sure to put in your file that we need to fix that.” 

Stiles snaps his mouth closed. _Point, Jennifer._

The ride goes on for a while. He keeps his eyes shut, not daring to speak again, afraid to see civilization completely disappearing around him. 

_Hey, Derek, remember when you said I wouldn’t be able to stay quiet for fifteen minutes? Well, I sure showed you._

Talking to Derek in his head helps. It doesn’t wash him in total peace or anything, but it makes him feel like he’s not going to completely panic. If Derek was here now…well, he’d be pissed as hell and would probably threaten to tear out Jennifer’s throat. But then he would put an arm around Stiles’s shoulders and keep him close. He would tell Stiles to stay strong and just focus on getting through. If he saw Stiles panicking he would say his name in that firm tone he has, and put a careful hand on Stiles’s stomach, and whisper, “ _We’re okay_ ” 

He swallows down a lump in his throat. He doesn’t know how Derek would feel about the baby, but he wants to believe Derek would be happy. They’d said they would wait, back when they would talk about being mated, but if this just fell into their lap, he thinks Derek would have been glad. It would be a new sprout in the wreckage of the Hale family. An addition to their little pack. 

Holy shit. _Holy shit_. 

His baby is probably a werewolf. 

The realization makes him tense so noticeably Jennifer frowns at him. He doesn’t know anything about werewolf babies. What if it shifts inside him? What if it’s born in puppy form? That would be adorable, yes, but he doubts he would be alive to see it what with little werewolf claws _tearing him from the inside out._

Okay. Waiting for Derek to rescue him just became Plan B. Plan A is finding a way right the hell out of here and tracking down Derek himself. 

“We’re here,” Jennifer announces. Stiles cranes to look out the window. They’re stopped in front of a metal gate all crowded with trees. It’s sort of comforting to see woods again, but when the gate opens to reveal Eichen House Stiles’s stomach turns. 

It looks like a prison. Maybe it _is_ a prison. It’s a long, squat building, and there’s a courtyard and a guard tower. The entire place is surrounded by a razor-wire fence that must be twenty-feet high. 

“Eichen House is the only place of residence for twenty miles,” Jennifer says casually, reading Stiles’s mind. “We have people constantly monitoring the fence to ensure nobody tries to jump it. That’s solely for your protection. The woods go on for miles and miles, and there are all sorts of nasty creatures out there that would love to get their teeth into you.” 

Stiles swallows. 

Plan A has hit an immediate setback. 

# 

The inside of Eichen House isn’t as completely grim as the outside would suggest. It’s all soft pastel colors and cheery posters reminding him that _A strong alpha makes a strong family, a gentle omega makes a gentle life_ and _When things get hard, remember to be SOFT – **S** ilent, **O** bedient, **F** aithful, and **T** ender!_

Jennifer takes him directly to an examination room, where two people are waiting for him. “Hi, Stiles,” the first says, giving him a small smile. “My name is Dr. Morrell. I’m going to be your primary psychiatrist during your stay here.” 

Stiles crosses his arms tightly. Fuck this. He’s not playing along, and right now sarcasm is an easy, solid weapon. “I’m sure that would be a barrel of fun, but I don’t need a shrink.” 

“I know you think that right now. But you and I are going to get down to the bottom of what’s caused this little hiccup in your life and get you back on track. Your life isn’t over, Stiles. Every omega that’s come through Eichen House has left understanding their role as nature intended. Once we’ve worked through your problems, you will be at peace. I promise.” 

“Oh, good,” Stiles mutters. “I was worried I wouldn’t find anyone to hate here.” 

Jennifer grips the back of his neck, a classic omega-restraint hold. It sends tendrils of pain all down his back, only pissing him off more. “As you can see, you might have your hands full with this one.” 

Morrell just keeps smiling. “We’ll be friends, Stiles. I look forward to working with you.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes and looks at the other doctor. “And who are you? My plastic surgeon to make me the prettiest omega I can be?” 

“Your obstetrician,” the man says coldly. “My name is Doctor Haigh. I assure you I don’t tolerate any kind of backtalk. As far as I’m concerned, everything interesting about you is contained in your womb.” 

“Well, you’ve never seen me curl my tongue.” Stiles demonstrates. “See? I’m a fascinating guy.” 

“False bravado to hide fear,” Morrell says softly. Her voice isn’t cruel, just matter-of-fact, as if she’s genuinely making a note of everything he does. “Very interesting, indeed.” 

“Dr. Haigh is going to give you an examination now,” Jennifer says, letting Stiles go. “Then you and I will have a chat.” She turns to the orderly waiting by the door. “Bring him to my office when he’s done.” 

“We’ll have our first meeting tomorrow,” Morrell tells him as she follows Jennifer out the door. “Try to get a good night’s sleep.” 

When the door closes behind them Haigh jerks his head at the examining table. “Pants off.” 

“No way.” 

“This is your intake examination. Cooperate or be held down.” 

“No,” Stiles says. He doesn’t want this man looking inside of him. “You’re not going to touch me.” 

“Get him restrained, Harris.” 

“No!” Idiotically, Stiles tries to run, but Harris grabs him and bodily carries him over to the examination table. There are restraints that Harris quickly snaps over his arms and chest. He kicks, but Harris grabs his legs, tugs his pants off, and then forces his feet into stirrups. 

Haigh snaps on a pair of gloves and brings over a transanal wand. “Don’t clench,” he says before sliding it into his body. It’s so big, and unexpected, and oh God it’s poking around _inside_ of him… 

_I am not here I am not here I am at home I am with Derek I am on the fucking beach in Bermuda I am anywhere anywhere anywhere else but here_. 

There’s a blipping sound from the monitor to his left and Haigh makes a small satisfied sound. “Is that its heartbeat?” Stiles whispers, craning his head to see if there’s anything on the screen. 

Haigh is writing something down on a clipboard and doesn’t answer. 

“Hey. _Hey_. Is that the baby’s heartbeat?” 

Haigh puts down his pen. “Let me make something clear. The information I’m collecting about your pregnancy is not for your benefit. It will be shared only with the appropriate OSS parties, who will be making the decisions going forward about your health. I don’t have time to answer your pointless questions, and they will be ignored henceforth. Understand?” 

Stiles curls his fingers around the thin paper sheet. He feels small, and exposed, and terribly vulnerable. “It’s my body,” he says in a tiny voice, and he can almost hear Morrell’s curious voice: _Bravado flees when scolded. Interesting._

“Maybe.” Haigh goes back to his clipboard. “But that doesn’t mean much here.” 

# 

True to his word, Haigh doesn’t say another word to Stiles during his examination, just notes down everything and nods to Harris when he’s done. The orderly unstraps Stiles and gets him back on his feet before marching him down the hall. “Move your feet, omega,” he snaps, purposefully stepping on the heel of Stiles’s sneaker to prod him along. 

Stiles’s temper flares again. “Boy, aren’t you a big strong alpha? I sure hope you’ve got some lucky omega waiting for you at home!” 

Harris makes a pissed-off sound and abruptly twists Stiles’s arm up behind his back so fiercely he cries out. “Trust me, omega, you don’t want to get on my bad side.” 

God, there’s nothing Stiles hates more than an alpha bully. “Do you even have a good side? I’d hate to waste my time searching for one.” 

He gets another arm-twist for his trouble. 

Jennifer is waiting for him in her office. She must split her time between here and the Beacon Hills OSS branch, which is just great for him. If he really puts his mind to it, maybe he can make enemies with every staff member by tomorrow morning. “Alright, Stiles,” she says after Harris dumps him into a chair. “First things first. Who’s the father?” 

Stiles clamps his mouth shut. 

“There’s an alpha out there who deserves punishment, too. Corrupting an omega is a crime, and we intend to charge. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Jennifer waits him out. “Was it your friend Scott? Scott McCall?” 

Well, she’s done her research. Stiles only lets a little smirk play on his lips, as if that’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard, before going poker faced again. 

“You don’t want to talk? Then you can listen. Here’s what’s going to happen, Stiles. It’s the duty of the OSS to determine the best possible outcome from the tragedy you’ve forced on yourself. The alpha you’ve been assigned to is still interested in contracting, so long as you reform your ways and can be guaranteed to obey and serve him just as you have been taught." 

Stiles snorts at that. “Bullshit. I don’t care how much he wants to hurt my dad, no alpha would willingly take on another alpha’s kid.” 

Jennifer stares at him for a second, then smiles slowly, as if he’s shown a weakness that delights her. “Oh, honey. You don’t understand your situation at all, do you?” She leans over the desk. “First of all, the decision of whether or not your pregnancy continues will be made by the OSS. If we feel it’s better for the pregnancy to be terminated so you can be quickly rehabilitated and transferred into the custody of your alpha, that’s what will happen. And given the attitude you’ve shown thus far—well, I wouldn’t get attached to it, if I were you.” 

It’s as though she’s plunged her hand into his chest and ripped out his heart. Just like that he immediately has the answer to the question he’d asked himself in the van: yes, he wants this baby. “If you do that,” he says shakily, trying to find words hiding behind the endless scream of horror in his head. “If you even try to fucking _touch_ …” 

“Ah-ah-ah,” Jennifer scolds, holding up one finger. “Don’t lower your baby’s chances even further, Stiles.” 

He shuts his mouth. 

“We can choose to terminate any time until your sixth month of pregnancy. By law we’re required to give you twenty-four hour advance notice, during which time you’ll be under heavy guard. There will be no second chances or arguments or hysterics. Tell me you understand what I’m saying.” 

Stiles feels cold down to his fingertips. Even though his stomach is still completely flat he wants to curl around it and promise that he will never, ever let that happen. “I understand what you’re saying, ma’am.” 

“Well, look at that. Manners. I knew I’d find the right button to press eventually. Even if we do decide to allow you to carry the baby to term, you’re the farthest thing from a responsible omega parent. The baby will be adopted by an appropriate two-parent family. You will have no right to the child. You will deliver it under anesthetic, so you will not hold it or set eyes on it or even know its sex and gender. Do not hope for some third option that will allow you to keep the baby. It will not happen.” 

There is such a coldness in her voice. She has done this before, that’s terribly obvious. Stiles feels himself shrinking into the chair. 

“The only thing you can do for that baby is keep it alive. So with that in mind— I’d like to see some cooperation here. Who is the father?” 

Stiles can’t tell her. Nobody can know that his baby’s father is a werewolf. If the baby is at risk of being born a werewolf, there is no way OSS will let his pregnancy continue. “I can’t tell you.” 

“Was it your father?” 

“No!” 

“Were you raped?” 

He almost lies, that’s how terrified he is, but he doesn’t know what the consequences of that claim would be. “No. I just…I’m sorry, Miss Blake. I can’t tell you.” 

Jennifer shakes her head in disappointment. “Bad start, Stiles.” 

He just nods, slumping his shoulders, as though he understands and he’s ashamed. He has to play along as best he can, no matter how much he’s raging at them inside his head. These people are not going to take his baby from him. “I’m not trying to be difficult. I’ll be good, I promise.” 

“It’s our job to make you that way. By the time you leave here, Stiles, you will be an omega fit for mating. We will use any and all techniques to ensure you that never act out again. These techniques are very well tested. Some of them will be extremely unpleasant for you. If you cooperate with the program from the start, maybe you won’t have to experience them.” 

“I’ll cooperate, ma’am.” 

_I’m lying through my teeth, ma’am._

“Good.” Jennifer stands. “Let me introduce you to your roommate.” 

# 

“You will retire to your room by 8:00 every night,” Jennifer says as she takes Stiles down another hall. “The doors lock at 8:01 and do not reopen until 7:00 the next morning. Privacy within your room is the one privilege you enter with. Obviously, it is then also the first privilege that you lose. Act up and we’ll be forced to put cameras inside, which wouldn’t get you off on the right foot with your roommate at all.” She stops in front of a heavy steel door and pushes it open. “Isaac? Meet your roommate.” 

A curly-haired boy with a baby bump sitting on the upper cot of a bunk bed blinks down at them. Stiles can see the duffle bag he’d left in the van already on the lower bunk. “Hello,” he says softly. 

“His name is Stiles. He’s pregnant as well. He’s not having a very good day today, so it would probably be best if you left him alone tonight. Since he can’t be trusted to take care of his own needs, I’ll be counting on you to come to me with any concerns about him, all right?” 

The kid just smiles and nods. What the actual _fuck?_ They’re straight-up ordered to _spy_ on each other? Stiles drops his gaze to the ground, not out of shame but because he doesn’t want anyone to see the utter fury in them. 

“Time for bed, Stiles. Hopefully tomorrow you’ll be ready to cooperate with us, hm?” 

When she’s gone Stiles looks up at Isaac, who’s gone back to doing something in a little book. “What are you doing?” he asks, wanting to feel out his new roommate. 

“Journaling. My therapist has me do it. It gets my bad feelings out.” Isaac doesn’t look up. 

“Oh.” Like, poems and shit? That’ll be fun. Stiles sits on his bed. There’s a window in the room, but it just looks out into the woods, highlighting how isolated they are. “So is it…okay here?” 

“It’s _wonderful_ here. Once you start the program you’re going to feel so much better. OSS has helped me see that right now the best thing I can do is cooperate, so I can bring a baby into this world as a gift to a couple who can’t have their own. Then I can have an alpha, who will give me my own children, which I can help raise to be perfect members of society.” 

Holy sweet mother of God. What the hell have they done to this kid? Stiles’s mouth opens and shuts, but short of performing an exorcism he doesn’t think there’s anything he can do to help poor Isaac. He settles for a dull, “Wow.” 

There’s an ominous clicking sound from the door. “That’s the lock,” Stepford Roommate says. “The lights will go out any second.” 

Sure enough the lights die without any warning, leaving them completely in the dark. Stiles hears Isaac rustling around above him, before calling out, “Good night,” and going still. Stiles reaches into his duffle to find Derek’s carving. They’d taken it from his pocket when they’d searched him at the facility, but he’d said it was an old gift from his mom and they’d let him keep it. 

He grips it tightly in his hand. _God, Derek. I’m scared. I’m all alone here. What the hell am I going to do?_

It’s the aloneness that’s the very worst thing. Sure, he can talk to Derek in his head, but he doesn’t even know for sure that Derek is still alive. Even if he is, even if he does come back, it might be too late for Stiles and the baby. 

Stiles presses his hands to his stomach. He thinks of Derek, and his own mother, and the threats Jennifer had made and, God, yes, he wants this baby. He wants to feel it kicking inside of him. He wants to hold it in the moments after it’s born, so when it opens its eyes for the first time Stiles is its whole world. He wants to have sleep-deprived, weepy arguments with Derek over whose turn it is to change a diaper. He wants to hold it when it’s sick and teach it how to be strong and someday hear it ask for the story of its parents, just like Stiles had always asked his dad. A good story. A love story. He wants his baby to be part of that story. 

He knows that the baby isn’t actually a baby yet, just an unaware collection of cells, but at this moment he needs it to be real. Real enough that he’s not alone, even if just for tonight. 

So Stiles tells a bedtime story to the child he might never meet. 

He rounds each word soundlessly into a pillow that’s eventually soggy, one arm curled around his head and his free hand on his belly. He tells his baby a love story, of a boy and a wolf who met in the woods and weren’t afraid of each other. The story begins with _once upon a time_ , not because it is a lie, a fairy story made for children, but because there was a time when it was real and there will come a time when it will be real again. 

_Once upon a time there was a boy. Once upon a time there was a wolf._

 _Once upon a time, they met._

He tells the baby about the way they talked and told stories and laughed. The first time Derek took his pain, after Stiles was trying to demonstrate a handstand against a tree and fell. The stone wall Derek had erected around himself that fell so easily as soon as Stiles was willing to try and push it aside. 

And the first time Derek had shifted in front of him. He’d been tense, as though he was ready to bolt. He’d thought Stiles would be afraid of him. But no matter how many sides there are to a person there are some things that remain constant, and Derek’s constant, though he tried to bury it under a gruff exterior, was kindness. Stiles could never be afraid of Derek in any form because he knew that the core of the man and the wolf was wholly, undeniably good. 

He tells his baby that most people think wolves only belong under the moon, in the darkness where nobody can see them. That’s where Derek stayed for year: _hiding_. But then Derek met Stiles, out in the daylight. He’d shifted, and Stiles had looked right at him and hadn’t been afraid. After that he hadn’t needed to hide any more. And that, he tells their baby, is why the wolf is in the sun on the pendant Derek gave him. Because nobody should be forced to hide who they really are away in the darkness. They all deserve the light. 

And he swears with everything in his power that he will bring his baby into the light. His child will be a wolf in the sun, safe with Stiles and Derek. He will find a way out of here for them. 

_So you just do your thing in there, kiddo. Stay where you are, and I’ll get us out of here._ He sucks in a few shaky breathes, and finishes the story: _I love you._

# 

“Hey. _Hey_. Wake up.” 

Stiles opens his eyes to see Isaac crouched down next to him. The sun has just come up outside. “Give me your pillow.” 

“My— ” 

“Just do it.” 

Stiles grabs his pillow, still damp from his cry-fest the night before, and hands it over. Isaac tosses it onto his top bunk, then grabs his own dry pillow and gives it to Stiles. “They come in to take our sheets and if they see this they'll know you were crying. Trust me, you don’t want them to know they got to you on your very first night here. They jump on that kind of weakness.” 

Stiles frowns. “But they’ll think you were crying now.” 

“I was journaling last night about my dad. Trust me, my therapist will be thrilled to know she got me to cry. That would be a…what’s her term… an _appropriate emotional reaction._ ” Isaac grins at him and sticks out a hand. “Sorry about that bullshit last night. Had to make sure you weren’t a mole, they do that sometimes. But I heard you crying and knew that couldn’t be faked.” 

“Oh. Uh, no problem.” Stiles shakes, head a little jumbled from the personality 180. “Sorry I woke you up.” 

“Happens to us all.” Isaac’s smile dims. “Look, in about twenty minutes the door opens and we have to go to breakfast. I won’t lie, today’s gonna suck for you. They’re going to do things to you while you’re here that are supposed to break you. But most of us omegas— well, we got stuck in here for refusing to bend, so we’re sure as fuck not going to break now. We’re fighting. Are you here to fight too?” 

Stiles grins. Now _this_ is a roommate. “To the absolute death, if necessary.” 

“Not a joke in this situation, Stiles. But good. You do whatever you have to— pretend to play along, say what they want to hear . Just don’t lose yourself.” Isaac gazes at him seriously. “You have to hold on to something, maybe a person or a place or a just dream that’s outside of these walls. You have to have an anchor. Is there something like that for you?” 

Stiles nods. He had slept with the carving clutched into his hand and now he rubs his finger over the wolf. “There’s someone out there for me.” He swallows. “Someone I have to get back to, no matter what.” 

“Good. Don’t forget them. Promise yourself that no matter what else OSS tries to take away, they can never get that. Hold on to it and don’t ever let go, that’s rule number two.” 

“Wait, what’s rule number one?” 

Isaac grins and jerks his head at the clean pillow on Stiles’s bed. “Never let the bastards see you cry.” 

# 

_My name is Derek Hale_. 

A hundred miles away a man crouches in the mud, still shaking off the pain of transformation. 

_My name is Derek Hale_

That phrase means something to him. It’s important, but he doesn’t know why. 

He growls, but he’s different now than he was moments ago and the sound isn’t right. He blinks at himself and sees flesh, not fur. For a moment it confuses him. He looks like something to be hunted, not the predator he’d been before. 

_My name_ … 

He remembers now. 

That’s the phrase he’s supposed to remember when he comes back. The one thing that’s supposed to stay constant. His mother had always said, to keep from going feral: _the only thing you cannot forget is who you are_. 

He’s been a wolf for so long it had all started to slip away. But now he’s back, and he just has to remember himself. Who and what he is dances at the edges of his brain; the tip of his tongue. 

He’d shifted back for a reason, hadn’t he? Yes— another one of his mother’s lessons. _Always make sure you have something to come back to_. 

_My name is Derek Hale._

 _I’m a werewolf._

 _

Once I had a family. 

Now…

_

He remembers pale skin, a smile, a frayed red hoodie. 

_Now I have him_. 

He takes a few more breaths into the mud, bringing himself back, trying to understand why he is not with the boy somewhere safe. He’s tired, and frustrated, and he’d been forced into his wolf shape for so long… 

The last few puzzle pieces of his consciousness snap into place and he growls again, this time a furious, satisfying sound. 

His name is Derek Hale. 

He’s a werewolf. 

And he’s currently pissed as hell. 

He’s been trying and _trying_ to get back to Beacon Hills, but he’s being kept out. Another werewolf pack, always at the perimeter, is constantly driving him back whenever he got close. One of them must be the wolf that bit Scott McCall. 

He doesn’t know who they really are. They might have lived in Beacon Hills for years without his knowledge and don’t like having a lone wolf on their turf. They’re hunting him and with so many of them he can only turn tail and run whenever they approach. 

But he can’t let them keep him out of Beacon Hills. Stiles doesn’t have much time left before graduation. Derek needs to get back to him, and soon, before he completely loses himself out here. 

He lets himself shift back, holding on to the thread of his last thoughts like a guiding rope. He can’t let himself get that far under again. 

_My name is Derek Hale._

He sets a path towards home and bounds forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Stiles is restrained and given an internal exam against his will. He's later threatened with a forced abortion and being denied the chance to raise his child.  
> Also, as a more general (but a bit spoiler-y note), since the summary for this story is largely useless: the current separation between Derek and Stiles will not last for the duration or even the majority of the story. I know some of you are concerned this is just going to be a lot of endless angst with no happiness in sight, but that's not the way I have it planned! The reason why I like to write angst is because I like Derek and Stiles figuring things out together. (That doesn't mean there will be no angst as soon as they're reunited , of course :) ) I'm writing these initial chapters when things are fairly bleak and Stiles and Derek are apart as fast as possible because my favorite part of writing Sterek is, well, writing Sterek. So please don't fear!  
> NEXT UP: Stiles makes some friends and then some enemies in Eichen; Derek learns the identity of the Beacon Hills werewolves.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW in the end notes (and I would consider this chapter especially triggering, so please take care of yourselves!)

Breakfast is served at a single long table. Isaac and Stiles sit next to each other, across from a blonde girl who is scowling down at her plate. 

A female orderly leans over Isaac’s shoulder and gives him a small paper cup filled with pills. “Vitamins, sweetie.” 

“Thanks, Lisa.” Isaac swallows them all in one gulp, making a face when they go down. “Ugh. Should have done those one at a time.” 

Lisa laughs and begins to massage his shoulders. “You’re just the cutest thing,” she coos. Isaac giggles bashfully, but when Lisa moves away the smile immediately drops off his face. “Trust me,” he mutters to Stiles. “The only thing worse than them hating you is them _liking_ you.” 

Across from them, a male orderly is leaning over the blonde girl. “You need to take your vitamins,” he tells her in a chiding, soft tone. “We want you to be nice and healthy, don’t we, honey?” He pets her hair. “What happened to that pretty smile I got to see last night?” 

The girl beams at him, then picks up her cup of vitamins, spills them onto the table, and crushes them with the heel of her hand. “Whoops,” she says sweetly. “I’m such a clumsy girl today.” 

The orderly’s hands tighten around the girl’s shoulders until she winces. “Do we need to get Jennifer? Or would you prefer I handle this myself?” 

“That’s Erica,” Isaac mutters. “She’s cool, but you have to be careful around her. She’s not really into the whole _play along_ plan. If she hasn’t gotten in trouble by the end of breakfast, she considers the whole day wasted.” 

Stiles doesn’t blame her, but the girl is obviously around four months pregnant and he can’t help but wonder if she’s hearing the same threats he got from Jennifer. “Isn’t she worried they might terminate her pregnancy?” 

“That’s what she wants. Erica’s gay. Some people in her family thought that all she needed was to experience a heat and a knotting, so they forced her off her pills and hired alphas to _fix_ her. Now here she is.” 

The horror of that takes Stiles’s breath away. “They’re making her carry the baby after _that?_ What good could possibly come of making her give birth?” 

Isaac’s eyes don’t leave Erica, who is being force-fed vitamins by two orderlies. “The official reasoning is that hormones released through her pregnancy will cure her same-gender attraction. But between you and me— the more an omega wants their baby, the more likely OSS is to get rid of it, and vice-versa. So if you want yours to see the light of day…don’t ever let on. Trust me.” 

“Do you want them to terminate yours?” 

Isaac hesitates. “My father kept me off heat pills most of my life to make me desperate and needy and completely starved for touch. Then he would lock me in a freezer or tie me to my bed for hours. All I ever knew was torture. I met Ben a year ago, and he was nice to me. I know now that he took advantage of me, since he knew what my dad did and made sure to come around right when I needed an alpha most— but he was the only person who ever touched me in a way that made me feel good. And even though it was a lie, I felt loved. So I’m not sure, honestly. I still have two months until viability, so I shouldn’t let myself get attached…but I think I do want to carry this baby to term. And even though it probably won’t happen, I’d like to raise it myself.” 

Stiles knows that omegas are so often abused in their households, but to hear it shared so honestly… “God, Isaac, I’m so sorry. They shouldn’t put you and Erica here. You didn’t do anything wrong. You need to be healed, not punished.” 

“Well, let me quote our esteemed leader Jennifer Blake: ‘Only nails that stick out get the hammer.’ In other words, omegas bring their abuse on themselves.” 

An orderly puts a plate of food in front of him, but Stiles has never felt less like eating in his life. Across the table Erica is gagging down her last pill, while the orderly keeps a hand clamped over her mouth to make sure she swallows. 

“I’m not mad,” the orderly tells her gently when it’s finally done. “It’s okay to have bad days during the healing process.” His hands begin to stroke over her shoulders and arms and Erica stiffens. 

“Don’t,” she says, voice immediately ragged, as if she’s holding down a scream. “Please.” 

The orderly shakes his head, voice dropping to a murmur. “Touch therapy is good for you, Erica. We don’t want you afraid of intimacy with your alpha, do we?” One hand pins her to the chair when she struggles, while the other keeps traveling methodically over her shoulders, neck, and chest. 

Isaac makes a strangled sound under his breath, eyes lowered to his food. The other omegas at the table don’t look either, but Stiles sees their eyes shutting, as if they can feel Erica’s pain. Stiles can’t stand it. He has to do something. 

His hand is tightening around his fork, as if he might thrust it into the orderly’s eye, when a sturdy, handsome boy walks into the dining room. He’s so masculine that Stiles is sure he must be an alpha, but he’s dressed in the same loose-fitting gray clothes as all the other omegas and he takes the empty seat next to Erica. Stiles sees him reach out as if to take his water glass and brush his hand over Erica’s. She turns pleading eyes to him and slides her hand off the table. He drops his as well and Stiles realizes they must be gripping hands tightly where nobody can see. 

He raises an eyebrow at Isaac, who hesitates, then leans in to ensure he won’t be overheard. “Erica’s boyfriend,” he breathes. “He purposefully got in trouble so he could be sent here with her. Nobody with OSS knows they’re together.” 

Stiles nods almost imperceptibly. “I won’t tell.” 

“There,” the orderly says cheerfully, finally stepping away from Erica. “I bet you feel better now, don’t you, sweetie?” 

Erica is breathing shallowly with her eyes squeezed shut, but she nods. The orderly smiles and walks away. 

Not another word is spoken during breakfast. 

# 

Stiles has his first therapy appointment later that day. Dr. Morrell is waiting for him, a notepad and pen at the ready. 

“Hi, Stiles. I’m really looking forward to this.” 

Stiles takes a seat on the couch. Morrell seems genuinely friendly, but he’s sure everything he says is being reported right to Jennifer, so he has to be careful. “I really don’t have much to say.” 

She laughs. “Well, usually that’s just fine, but this is the one time talking is encouraged. While I know you don’t see me as a friend right now, I’m here to help you. I’ve dedicated my life to helping omegas, and there are a lot of people out there right now who are very happy and secure because they finally opened up and trusted me. So let’s give it a try, okay?” 

The sad thing is that Stiles thinks she actually believes it. She honestly thinks she’s doing good in the world. “Okie-dokie,” he mutters. 

“I’d like to start by hearing one of your favorite memories of your mother.” 

He hasn’t expected that, and for a second he just gapes at her. “My mom died when I was seven,” he says eventually. 

“I know that. All I want is one good memory.” 

Immediately they drench him. _Mom reading him a bedtime story; Mom playing Cops & Robbers with him; Mom shooting aliens and screaming, “Take that, suckers,” when he snuck downstairs to find her and Dad playing video games; Mom hiding under the couch cushions with him when Dad came home so he would purposefully sit on them and ask really loudly where his family went…_ He doesn’t want her to have any of those, so he tosses out something bland: “After my first day of kindergarten I came home and she had made chocolate-chip cookies to celebrate. We ate them in a blanket fort.” 

“What did she do when you first came home?” 

“She met me at the door. Gave me a hug.” 

“I bet her hugs were great.” 

He sighs. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

“Did you know a hug from an omega parent releases twenty-five percent more serotonin in the brain than hugs from an alpha or beta parent? Serotonin is— ” 

“I know what it is. And I saw that study. That’s only because most young kids are more comfortable with their omega parent, since they spend all day with them.” 

“That’s right. I bet you liked being able to spend all day with your mom, didn’t you?” 

“By the time I was old enough to actually appreciate it, she was too sick to watch me. I mostly had babysitters.” 

“Hmm.” Her eyes drop purposefully to his stomach. “That must have had a real influence on you.” 

He snaps. “Nah, my mom dying was pretty chill, honestly. Great childhood. No regrets. What’s the point of this?” 

“Well, it’s interesting, Stiles. So many of the omegas we see in here didn’t have an omega parent growing up. It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” 

“My dad did fine on his own.” He realizes he’s angrily striking his hand against his knee so he forces himself to flatten his palms against the couch. 

“He’s important to you?” 

“Of course he is. He’s my family.” 

“Would you say family is the most important thing?” 

Stiles thinks his dad and Derek and his baby and nods once, crossing his arms tightly before he can betray any emotion. 

“It’s interesting you say that,” Morrell says softly. “Since it seems to me like you think _you_ are the most important thing. Isn’t that what you think? That what _you_ want is more important than family? More important than being a loving, supportive omega for the right alpha or beta and being there for your children the way your mother was there for you?” 

“That’s— ” 

“You partnered with an alpha outside of a contract. Jennifer told me how you reacted when you found out you were going to be mated early. You don’t believe in our society’s familial structure, do you?” 

It’s almost a relief to finally say it out loud. “No. I don’t.” 

“You have a better idea?” 

“Let omegas make their own choices.” 

She nods thoughtfully. “Okay. So let’s say an unmated omega chooses not to take heat control pills and just struts around downtown, attracting every unbonded alpha within five miles. That omega would be attacked, wouldn’t they? Alphas wouldn’t be able to resist.” 

“Oh, I don’t know. Take the money you’re spending on this torture shack and put it towards rape prevention, maybe?” 

“And what about careers? You think an omega could compete in a workplace with alphas? When an omega is scolded by an alpha their natural instinct is to submit. What workplace would want that kind of hindrance?” 

“I have more faith in omegas than that.” 

“Would that be your answer for mating as well? The reason OSS handles contracts is to prevent alphas from forcing omegas into mating against their interests. You’d rather alphas are just out on the street grabbing any omega who looks good?” 

“Obviously not— ” 

“Back to careers. If an omega is working, who’s taking care of the children? All the studies show that omegas are the natural caregivers. Birthing and raising children is their _purpose_. Not only are they better at it, they _love_ it. Once an omega has a child, they’re happy. They don’t want to leave that baby so they can struggle out in the world. By arguing against the system we have, you’re trying to speak for thousands of omegas who don’t feel the same way you do.” 

“Of course an omega can stay home if they want to! But we have to have that choice!” Stiles is yelling now, lost in an argument he’s over ever raged inside his head. “OSS is trying to sell me to the highest fucking bidder, so don’t you fucking tell me you’ve got my best interests at heart! Is that my purpose, doctor? To be a tool? To be _owned?_ ” 

“Owned is an ugly word,” Morrell says calmly. “I think you’ll find most omegas say they’re protected. Cherished, even.” 

“Beaten,” Stiles spits. “Raped.” 

“OSS does its very best to ensure that doesn’t happen, by creating mating contracts with compatible individuals. Without OSS structuring those relationships— and assisting an omega’s development so they understand it’s all right to give in to their natural instincts and take their place in the family structure— things would fall apart. I think you know that.” 

“I think, actually, that OSS is the reason I don’t _have_ a mom anymore. Because her ability to produce children was deemed more important than her _life_.” 

“Your mother was sick. What happened to her was a tragedy. What’s happened to you because of it is a tragedy. The entire situation highlights how crucial an omega is in a family. It would be a truly selfish thing to willingly refuse to play that role. I bet it broke your mother’s heart to know she would have to leave you. And now you’re throwing away the life she would have given anything to keep.” 

Stiles walks to the door, shaking. “I’m not going to sit here and be lectured about family by someone who’s trying to take away mine.” 

“Please take your seat.” 

“No! You’re going to have to strap me down if you want me to stay. Have fun rationalizing that to yourself as being in my _best interest._ ” 

She’s quiet for a moment, then sighs. “All right. We’ll end it there for today.” There’s a beeping sound from the door and it opens to reveal a waiting orderly. “I’m not trying to make you upset, Stiles, but you need to see things the way they really are, not how you wish they were. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He doesn’t answer. He thinks he might hate her most of all. 

# 

That afternoon they’re all taken outside to the courtyard for fresh air. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Stiles all huddle together by the fence. “So, let me guess,” Erica says, staring shrewdly at his belly like she’s reading a crystal ball. “Captain of the football team, told you all he wanted was to smell you in heat _just once_ , dumped you the day after knocking you up?” 

Stiles grins. He kind of likes how sharp she is. “None of the above.” 

“So who was it?” 

“Immaculate conception, actually. Turns out my baby is Jesus 2.0.” 

Erica nods thoughtfully. “Well, no worries if they try to give you an abortion, then. You’ll just end up giving birth three days later.” 

Stiles almost chokes. “That might be the darkest joke I’ve ever heard.” 

“Oh, trust me,” Isaac mutters. “She can do worse.” 

A bird swoops over them before disappearing into the woods. Erica watches it go before shuddering theatrically. “I swear more trees grow out there by the day.” 

Stiles follows her gaze. “You don’t like the woods?” 

“God, no. Anything could be hiding out there.” 

Stiles stares into the trees. For a moment he almost imagines he sees red eyes, wolf eyes, watching over him from the darkness. “Yeah,” he says softly. “That’s what I like about it.” 

# 

It’s surprising and a little disconcerting how easily he falls into a routine. Every day he has breakfast with Isaac, Erica, and Boyd, then either goes to Morrell or Haigh, then lunch, then courtyard time, then dinner, then bed. He sees little of Jennifer, which is honestly a relief. He pretends she doesn’t even exist. 

He learns that there’s no point in fighting off the orderlies’ touches. Some just like to rub their hands over his shoulders, or touch his chin to get him to turn his head. Others, like Harris, like to twist his arm or slam him up against walls. None touch him in an overtly sexual way; he guesses that’s expressly forbidden. But he misses personal space. 

He keeps talking to the baby in his head. He nicknames it Lucky, after the puppy he’d always wanted as a kid. Naming your werewolf child after a fictional dog probably isn’t the best parenting move in the universe— he can almost imagine Derek falling over in horror if he found out— but whatever. Stiles needs all the luck he can get. He sleeps every night with Derek’s carving clutched in his hand and it’s kept anything terrible from happening so far. 

His belly begins to curve out and he’s sort of enamored with it. Isaac starts throwing pillows at him when he stands in front of their mirror for more than five minutes to admire himself, because, well, jealousy is a truly terrible thing. Stiles looks _hot_ pregnant. 

Dr. Haigh seems pleased with the way it’s going. One day he does an ultrasound, moving the cursor around until a shape appears on the monitors. When he sees Stiles looking he purposefully turns it so he can’t see. 

“Does it look okay?” Stiles asks anyway, nervously twisting the fabric of his medical gown. 

“Yes. Perfectly healthy. Very adoptable.” 

Stiles chooses to ignore that last bit. “Can you see if it’s a boy or girl?” 

Haigh snorts. “I determined that last week from your blood test, though we won’t know its gender until it’s born. It’s already right here on your form.” He waves the clipboard he’s writing on to demonstrate. 

Stiles’s heart lifts in excitement. “So? What is it?” 

“Oh, I don’t see any reason for you to know that.” Haigh shuts the ultrasound off. 

Maybe it’s the heartburn that kept him up the night before, or the way an orderly had called him _cutie-pie_ at breakfast, or the two hours he’d spent today comforting Erica after another bout of touch therapy, but just like that Stiles is _done_. Lucky is _his_ , and if he wants to know his baby’s sex, he’s damn fucking well going to learn his baby’s sex. He doubles over as if in pain, and when Haigh steps close to see what’s wrong Stiles lunges and yanks the clipboard away from him, elbowing him in the solar plexus when he tries to get it back. 

He has about three seconds before the orderly in the room reaches him, but he scans the top of the form. _Gestational age: seventeen weeks. Gender: undetermined. Sex: male_

The orderly grabs the clipboard away and practically tackles Stiles to the ground. Haigh is roaring at him, threatening that _Jennifer will hear about this_ , but Stiles just grins into the ground. 

Lucky is a boy. He’s having a son. 

_Worth it_. 

# 

“Well, well, Stiles. I’m almost surprised it took this long.” 

Stiles sits across from Jennifer, trying to look contrite. “I’m so sorry, Miss Blake. I think it was just my hormones giving me a bad day. I’ll talk about it with Dr. Morrell.” 

“Oh, cut the shit, Stiles. We both know you’re not sorry. And I’ve been reading your reports with Morrell, so don’t pretend you’re being at all cooperative there.” Jennifer stands. “You broke the rules, and now you get punished. Harris, we’re going downstairs.” 

Stiles fights off a wave of fear at the ominous words and just goes limp, so Harris practically has to drag him out the door. They go down the hall, to an entrance marked for authorized personnel only. It opens to a set of stairs leading far down into the darkness, and Harris carries Stiles down before dumping him unceremoniously onto the ground. 

“One week, I think,” Jennifer says. He can barely see her face in the gloom. “You will receive two meals a day. There will be a three-second light when your food comes down the chute, but be on the lookout, because once that light goes out you won’t know where it is.” 

A week? A week without Morrell or Haigh or the orderlies? That’s practically a vacation. “Do I get a pillow or something?” 

Jennifer shakes her head and then goes back upstairs with Harris. When the door shuts and leaves him alone the lights go out completely. It’s darker than anything Stiles has ever known before, so dark he can’t see the hand in front of his face. He blinks and blinks, but his eyes won’t adjust. 

One week. He can do that. 

_It’s just you and me now, Lucky._

# 

He does okay at first. The boredom is worse than anything, so he chats out loud to himself, imagining conversations with his dad and Morrell and Isaac. Jennifer is right— the light when food comes is so brief that he ends up having to crawl around in the darkness trying to find the freeze-dried packages that come down the chute. There’s so little food that at first he’s constantly hungry. Then, slowly, hunger goes away. Everything goes away. 

The line between sleeping and awake blurs. Sometimes he can’t tell if he’s actually speaking out loud or just in his head. When he does try to speak, the words sound almost meaningless to his ears. He finds himself jabbing his fingers into his face, scratching at himself, because the nerve endings in his skin seem to have changed and he can barely feel anything. It’s like he’s gone formless, less than human. Even the memories of who he is; _what_ he is; disappear into the back of his mind. 

He’d been too afraid of cameras to mention Derek’s name at the beginning, but by the end of the week he’s wailing for him. While he’s not able to grasp any clear memory of the werewolf he knows that he’s important. He’s everything that this basement isn’t: goodness and light and soft, kind touches. He drives himself a mile from insane thinking that Derek is there with him, then realizing it was just a half-dream. 

The light from the food chute becomes torture, anticipated every second and then gone too fast when it comes. He starts throwing up the food and the smell of his own vomit and piss seeps into his nostrils until he thinks it’s all he’s ever known. 

When the door opens and footsteps creak the stairs Stiles is fetal, cringing away from the light that comes down. When he’d first started going crazy he’d thought being able to leave here would be like being born again, but this is more like being born dead. He just wants to shut everything off. 

Arms lift him, jostling him, and he moans in pain. Whoever has him doesn’t speak, just carries him up. Even with his eyes shut the brightness hurts. 

He’s taken to an examination room and handcuffed to the bed. Jennifer comes in and puts a hand between his legs, checking for blood. “Congratulations,” she says once she’s withdrawn. “Sometimes the trauma of solitary confinement causes a miscarriage, but it looks like the baby managed to hang on.” 

Stiles stares blankly at her. 

“Well, Stiles? Are you sorry now for what you did? If not, I’m happy to send you back down for another week…” 

He nods frantically. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t make me go back there. I’m sorry.” 

“You know why what you did was wrong, don’t you?” 

He can’t think fast enough to come up with a real answer. “Because…because I was bad…” 

Her voice sharpens. “Because you didn’t have a right to that information. The baby isn’t yours.” 

Stiles nods again. Jennifer stares at him for a second, and then leans in close. “Do you know why I hate omegas like you?” 

He shakes his head, trying to curl away from her as her lips hover only inches from his ear. 

“I had an omega who thought exactly the way you did. That she was _special_ , and deserved more than every other omega out there. I loved her enough that I enabled her for years, denying her what she really needed in favor of what she thought she wanted, until the day finally came that I was ready to have children. That was _my_ decision, but she refused. She wanted to deny me a family just to prove a point, and when I finally put my foot down, do you know what she did?” Jennifer traces a line on her throat unconsciously. “She tried to kill me. Can you believe that? Can you believe I had such a _bad_ omega?” 

“She was bad,” Stiles croaks, trying to find the right words to repeat. 

“That’s exactly right; she was. She ruined my life by refusing to accept her own. And she’s the reason why I started working here, and why I vowed I would never let an omega walk out who is not a hundred percent rehabilitated. I would rather bury you in the ground than let you leave here with a single revolutionary thought in your head, Stiles. So _stop fighting_.” 

He nods again, over and over, until she’s satisfied. When she leaves him alone he cries, salt stinging the eyes he’s keeping tightly shut because now the darkness is better. 

# 

Derek remembers that Stiles used to explain why he liked video games so much. He’d said it was all about the learning curve, dying and respawning to fight the same enemy until the way to beat them was finally clear. Derek had scoffed it off, but he gets it now. Sometimes winning is about losing every battle right up to the last one, then finally knowing how to bring it home. 

For the past two months he’s been trying to fight his way into Beacon Hills. The other werewolves wanting him out hadn’t been able to be there all the time, but someone had managed to mark off the entire town border with mountain ash. Whenever he would find a chink in the line and get through the other pack would somehow know and be right on his tail. He isn’t able to fight off an entire pack at once, so he had to retreat, over and over. 

But now he has a plan. 

He hides in the shadows of the trees, watching a rabbit nibbling at a patch of grass. The ash line goes straight through the grass and he waits for the rabbit to eat it all, until the line is broken once again. 

_Finally_. 

He leaps over the startled rabbit’s head and streaks through the Beacon Hills woods. From somewhere far away he hears a howl; whatever wolf is standing guard alerted to his presence. He knows what happens now. The other wolves will come after him, but one will be in the lead. That’s the one he wants. 

Sure enough he hears them hot on his tail—somewhere, he knows, Stiles is laughing at the unintentional dog joke— and when he looks behind him he sees the big gray one in the lead. 

Abruptly he turns and jumps on the leader. Before the other wolves can attack he shifts into his human form. He’d stolen a knife from a house in a neighboring town days ago and kept it clenched in his mouth when he ran, and now he holds it to the gray wolf’s throat, baring bloody teeth at the others to tell them to keep back. 

They shrink away, glancing nervously at each other. Just as he thought. The big one is their alpha, and they don’t know what to do now. 

The gray wolf tries to snap at him, but when Derek only holds on tighter it hesitates, then shifts itself so abruptly Derek nearly stumbles. “I would call this cheating, Derek,” the man scolds lightly. “Never bring a knife to a wolf fight.” 

Derek knows this man. This is Deucalion, one of the mob bosses who work with the Argents, and, it’s rumored, lost his sight long ago in a standoff with the sheriff’s department. Derek had always assumed he’d had a part in burning down the Hale house. “You’re a werewolf?” 

“Since birth. Not all of us are stupid enough to go out and announce it to the world, you know. We’ve been hiding it for years to prevent our own extinction.” 

“Did you bite Scott McCall?” 

Deucalion rolls his shoulders. He’s got his hand stretched out towards the other wolves, warning them to keep back. “Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“To get rid of you. Two alpha wolves in one town…well, even I can see that’s a recipe for disaster.” 

Derek growls and pushes the tip of the knife into the hollow of Deucalion’s throat. “You just decided to do it now, huh?” 

“Well, quite honestly, you had something I wanted. Very clever, Derek— trying to claim the sheriff’s son as your own. He’s quite a valuable piece of ass, isn’t he?” 

“How the fuck do you know about that?” 

“We saw you out there with him.” Deucalion snorts out a laugh. “You were just enamored with him, weren’t you? You didn’t even know what a cash cow he was. But the Argents and I were already fighting over who was going to get him come contract time, and I knew if you were in the mix you might just grab him and run. So I used my advantage and got rid of you. I’d hoped to have you dead, but this worked just as well— all I needed was enough time to bribe the OSS into giving me the boy immediately.” 

Derek longs to saw into the man’s throat. “If you lay a single finger on him— ” 

“Spare me the threats. Unfortunately, nobody will be laying a hand on him any time soon.” Deucalion sighs theatrically. “You left him so vulnerable, Derek. To think how he must be suffering now…” 

“ _What are you talking about?_ ” 

“Oh, he’s long gone, Derek. I can only hope he’ll be brought back eventually and given to me…what’s left of him, anyway.” 

Derek snarls and sinks his claws into the back of Deucalion’s neck. The other wolves howl as Deucalion’s cloudy eyes roll back and he collapses to the ground. As they rush to their fallen leader Derek leaps away, shifting in midair. 

He has to get to Stiles. 

He skids down paths that are familiar, trying to see if he can catch Stiles’s scent more to comfort himself that anything. There’s nothing, as though he hasn’t been out here for weeks. When Derek finally reaches the edge of the woods at the Stilinski house he’s frantic. 

He sees Stiles through the window and shifts back in relief, then realizes it isn’t Stiles at all, just one of his red t-shirts hanging in the window. He steps forward into the yard, trying to see inside, and the door opens. 

It isn’t Stiles. It’s his dad. Derek jumps backwards, certain he’s about to be shot, but John Stilinski has his hands up soothingly as he walks towards Derek. “Don’t run,” he begs. “Please, Derek.” 

Derek hesitates at the edge of the woods. Maybe he should turn himself in, just to find out where Stiles is…but if Stiles is fine, he’ll have ruined everything. “I didn’t bite Scott McCall,” he says defensively. 

“I know you didn’t. God, Derek. Scott and I have been trying to find you for weeks. You’re here for my son, aren’t you?” 

Derek freezes. Stiles wasn’t supposed to tell. “How…how did you know that?” 

“I found shreds of paper in his trash can and taped them together— I couldn’t believe it was really you at first, but then everything with Scott made sense.” John glances around the backyard as if he thinks there might be spies. “You should come inside.” 

Derek hasn’t been invited into another person’s home since his family died. He warily follows John inside, still half-expecting handcuffs or a bullet. The house barely smells like Stiles anymore. Derek looks over to the red shirt in the window and John follows his gaze. “Just in case he escaped,” he says quietly. “In case he ever makes it home.” 

Derek’s every heartbeat feels like a blow. “Where is he? Where’s Stiles?” 

“They took him away.” 

“OSS did?” 

“Yes.” 

Derek wants to rip his claws through the entire world. “Because of me?” 

“Because he was pregnant.” 

For a moment Derek thinks he must be dreaming. _Stiles_. He remembers holding Stiles tightly out in the woods, driven to mate, unconsciously stroking his hands over Stiles’s stomach as they lay curled together. “That’s not possible.” 

“He was pregnant, Derek. They took him to one of their prison camps once they found out.” 

Derek squeezes his eyes shut. He thinks of Stiles pregnant; he pictures a baby nestled in his arms. _His_ baby. But then he imagines Stiles being tortured, strapped down as his belly grows… “No, no, no. Oh, God, I didn’t know…” 

“They took him away two months ago. I don’t know what they’re doing to him, but I know it must be bad. Scott and I have been trying to find you because we need to get him out of there. The OSS knows our faces, but _you_ …” 

“I’ll kill them,” Derek says simply. There’s a hot flare of fury in his chest at the thought of Stiles imprisoned; of Stiles and his _child_ among strangers. “Tell me where he is. I’ll get him back.” 

“You’re not just going to storm up there and get yourself killed,” John says sternly. “We’re working on a plan.” 

Derek slams his hand against the wall. “Fuck your plan, Sheriff! He’s not spending another night there. Tell me where he is.” 

“If you get caught, it’s over for him. Derek, I don’t know you, but I trust my son. If he loved you— there was a reason. Prove him right. Work with me and Scott, and help us get him back.” 

Derek longs to shift and run all the way to Stiles, tearing out the throats of anyone in his way, but he forces himself to take a deep breath. Stiles is in danger. He and the baby, if it’s still alive, need Derek to be smart right now, not angry. He _has_ to get his family back. “Okay,” he says after a few moments. “Tell me the plan. How are we getting him out?” 

John smiles and Derek can see Stiles there in his eyes. “The plan isn’t getting him out,” he says. “It’s getting you _in_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Stiles learns the stories of some of the other omegas at Eichen, which include abuse by a parent, homophobia, and corrective rape. The character who was raped is molested by an alpha orderly as part of "touch therapy." Stiles is later locked in solitary confinement for a week, which almost drives him to insanity.
> 
> NEXT UP: Stiles gets some visitors, and Derek makes a plan.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's hoping everyone who celebrates had a good Christmas! My belated gift to you: the least Christmas-y chapter possible One serious trigger warning in the end notes.

Stiles spends the next few days in the examination room, unable to stand on his own two feet. An orderly hooks him up to an IV, since he can’t keep food down, and sponges him off. “I bet it doesn’t feel nice at all to be this yucky,” she says gently. “No omega has ever had to go down to the basement twice, so let’s not break that streak, hm? We all just want the best for you.” 

“Yes. Thank you.” 

“That’s especially important today, because you have visitors. Can you promise you’re going to behave for them?” 

His heart lifts. His dad? Scott? _Derek?_ “I’ll behave.” 

“Good boy.” The orderly looks up when Jennifer walks through the door. “Jennifer, Stiles has promised to be good for his visitors today.” 

“Well, that’s nice to hear. They’re very excited to see you.” Jennifer puts a hand on his stomach. “We’ve never had interest from adoptive parents this early, so I hope you make a good impression.” 

“What?” 

“A family is interested in adopting the baby,” Jennifer says loudly, as if Stiles has gone deaf. “Normally we wouldn’t entertain offers so early, since we haven’t even decided if you’ll be giving birth— but if you make a good impression today that baby might just make it after all. So? Should I bring them in?” 

He doesn’t have a choice. “Yes, ma’am,” he says. 

Jennifer smiles at him and then reaches out to caress his cheek, too roughly. “Good boy, omega. Such a good boy. What a nice change. You don’t say a word to them, understand? You just lie there and be quiet.” 

He closes his eyes when she goes to the door. He doesn’t want to see them. He’ll lie here and chat with Lucky in his head and ignore them entirely, just like Jennifer wants. 

A hand touches his stomach, rubbing over it thoughtfully. “He’s not nearly as pretty as I remember,” a voice says. 

He knows that voice. 

“He just finished a punishment. We’re trying to curb his willfulness, but it’s taking some time.” 

The voice snorts. “Well, if the baby inherited that, it better not try it with us. We’re certainly not a _spare the rod_ kind of family.” 

Stiles’s eyes fly open. Kate Argent is touching him, with a few other members of her family standing just behind her. Stiles immediately jerks in his restraints. “No,” he says desperately. “Not you. Not you.” 

Jennifer grabs his shoulders and slams him back onto the bed. “I knew it was too good to last. Shut your mouth before I put you back downstairs.” 

“But she isn’t even mated!’ 

“It takes a village to raise a child, especially one that had such a terrible start in life. The Argents will all care for this baby together.” Kate smiles at Jennifer. “Isn’t that right, Miss Blake?” 

“It would be extremely lucky to be brought up in such a respectable, close-knit family. And given the very generous donation the Argents have made to this facility, they obviously care deeply about the health and well-being of omegas. We couldn’t ask for a better family.” 

Stiles stares up at Jennifer. She’s telling him about the bribe on purpose, he knows, just to remind him that he too will be sold to the highest bidder. Like the alpha who paid for an early contract with Stiles, the Argents want this baby because it’s the sheriff’s grandchild— another hostage delivered right to them. 

He wants to rage at them, scream until his voice is hoarse, but if he does Jennifer will just carry him back downstairs and leave him there until his body has done the dirty work for her and miscarries. He closes his eyes as tears run down to pool against his neck. 

“Stop crying, omega,” Jennifer says quietly. “An alpha is here to give your child a home. Be grateful.” 

Kate’s hand strokes his belly, cupping around the little mound to measure. “Well, the baby’s stats look very good. I think we’d like to go ahead and claim it.” 

“That’s fine. Unfortunately we can’t guarantee, since we may still need to terminate up to his sixth month.” 

“Just keep us updated if that happens.” 

“Of course. Would you like to see an ultrasound now?” 

Kate shakes her head. “Let’s just get the paperwork done. We can see it another day.” 

When she turns to leave Stiles sees the flash of her gun at her hip. It reminds him of the day at the hospital when she’d planned to hunt down Derek. The memory fills him with cold, stark terror. 

Do they know Derek is his baby’s alpha parent? Is that why they want it— to kill it for being a werewolf? Even if they don’t know now, they’ll surely realize eventually. His son will be completely helpless, at the mercy of hunters, while Stiles is still locked away here and Derek is God knows where. 

He can’t let that happen. He can’t let his baby be born in this facility. 

But even though he knows that, and he should be making a plan to run, despair shorts-out his momentary spark of purpose. There is no escape. He can’t save his son. He can’t even save himself. _We are going to die here,_ he thinks, not for the first time, but now it feels like that might be the best thing for them both. 

# 

Eventually he’s taken directly from the examination room and led to Morrell’s office. The doctor watches him as he sits down gingerly on the couch. “How are you feeling?” she asks quietly, after it becomes clear he’s not in a chatty mood. 

“Like I don’t want to be awake.” Stiles’s voice still sounds croaky and Morrell winces. 

“It’s…very unfortunate that you had to experience that.” 

“Oh, I don’t know. It certainly taught me to keep my mouth shut so I don’t get in trouble again. That was the goal, right? As long as I’m _better_ , who cares how it happens?” 

Morrell actually looks uncomfortable. “There are some things Jennifer and I disagree on.” 

Stiles just shakes his head. He doesn’t care anymore. He wants to go to his room and curl up in bed and talk to Lucky in his head until he’s cried himself to sleep. “That will be a huge comfort next time, I’m sure.” 

“I heard they’ve found a good family for the baby.” 

“Yeah.” Stiles’s throat closes up before he can toss out something acerbic. He’s supposed to be this baby’s family. “Lucky us,” he chokes out, and shuts his mouth before she can get him to cry. 

They sit there in silence for a few minutes. Morrell clearly isn’t in the mood for therapy today either, because she finally sighs and puts down her clipboard. “How about we go outside? Would you like that? It’s a beautiful day.” 

Sunlight sounds acutely painful right now, but it’s better than this, so he shrugs. Morrell dismisses the orderly and walks Stiles outside. “I love springtime,” she says as the sun hits their faces. “Fresh air, rainstorms, new beginning…” 

Out in the woods a flock of birds lifts, gliding together for a moment with one mind before settling again in perfect harmony. Morrell watches them. “Lovely,” she murmurs. 

“Yes.” 

“You know, if even one of them refused to move in formation with the others, and insisted on being different, the beauty would be ruined, wouldn’t it?” 

Stiles doesn’t feel like playing. “Maybe.” He takes a shuddering breath and stares into the sun, letting it burn until he has to shut his eyes. “But at least they could all still fly.” 

# 

The next few days are blessedly Jennifer-free, as she’s back in the Beacon Hills office, but when she returns it’s with two new omegas in tow. One Stiles recognizes by sight: Kira Yukimura, his principal’s daughter, who had been in his omega classes but rarely said a word. The other he watches for hours before it hits him: Heather Jones. He had been friends with her when they were little, but she’d been sent to a different school district and they’d grown apart. She’s pregnant, heavily so— she must have been hiding it for months. She cries from the moment the orderlies bring her into the common room until the moment they’re sent to bed. 

Kira, on the other hand, seems almost excited to be here. She confesses to Stiles and the others the next morning that she’d broken into the OSS headquarters to try and steal the files of every graduating Beacon Hills omega. She’d wanted to distribute them to the omegas to try and incite some kind of revolution. Now that she’s been caught she wants to keep a record of everything that happens here so she can go public with it. 

Would the world care, if they knew? Stiles doesn’t have a lot of faith in what’s outside these walls anymore. In his dreams, when he flees, it’s always to those fabled camps in the woods. He’d confessed that to Morrell once and she’d told him gently that they weren’t real. Just another Santa Claus; a nice story that could never save anyone. She’s probably right. But it helps to believe. 

“How is everyone back in Beacon Hills?” he asks Kira. “Have you seen my dad? Is Scott McCall doing okay?” 

Kira grimaces. “The Argents tried to get the deputies’ union to hold a no-confidence vote against your dad once people found out about you. It didn’t pass, but people are still pretty upset at him. As for Scott…I don’t know. I never see him.” 

He wishes he hadn’t asked. _It’s your fault_ , he tells himself numbly. If he’d never disobeyed, they would be fine, and he would be safe right now. If he’d just been a good omega… 

At that moment Heather is led out to the common room by an orderly, crying so hard the entire place goes silent. The orderly tries to hush her, wrapping her in an omega-comfort hold that Stiles thinks feels like being suffocated. When it doesn’t work he shrugs and dumps her on the couch. “We’ll have to sedate you if you keep this up,” he tells her, gripping her chin to lift it. 

“Hey, hey.” Stiles sits next to her. She doesn’t want to end up sedated— those are the omegas that spend their days staring blankly into a corner, vacantness a constant substitute for obedience. She barely remembers him, but he’s sort of taken on the role of her protector, and she immediately throws herself into his arms. “It’s okay, Heather. 

Heather shakes her head. “M-Miss Blake told me I had to tell her the name of the father or I would have to get an abortion and I d-did and now he’s going to be in so much _trouble_ and they still might not let me have the baby!” Her voice dissolves into tears and Stiles winces. 

“That’s just a threat, Heather. They tell it to everyone. Look at me and Isaac. We’re still pregnant. Isaac hits viability next week and then they _have_ to let him have the baby. You can make it there too. Just…be good for them.” 

“But even if I do I won’t get to raise it. It’ll never even know about me. That’s not fair, I did everything right! I’ve been good all my life! My boyfriend said I was supposed to stop my heat pills for him, and I obeyed. They always told me I was meant to make babies, so I thought getting pregnant was a _good_ thing. They can’t take my baby. It’s mine!” She shrieks the last words, near hysteria. The orderlies eye her, trying to decide if she’s upsetting the other omegas enough that she has to be punished. Stiles can’t let that happen to her this soon. 

“You know what I do?” he tells her quietly. “I talk to my baby inside my head when I start to get freaked out. I know it’s not like he can hear me— but maybe in some small way he knows that he’s loved. As long as he’s here, and I’m the only one who can talk to him that way, he’s mine and mine alone. Okay?” 

Heather takes a few shuddering breaths before finally nodding. “Okay,” she whispers. 

They all crowd around her until she’s calmer, careful not to touch her— after having to endure the orderlies’ touches, they’re all loath to invade personal space without permission. “By the way,” Isaac says eventually. “Your dates are off, Stiles. Today is actually my viability day.” 

“It is?” Stiles thinks back. He must have lost track of time while he was in solitary. “Dude, congrats!” 

Isaac grins, putting a proud hand over his belly. “Thanks. It’s actually— there was one now. It’s started kicking, see?” He rucks up his shirt and the omegas study him, trying to see what he feels, but there’s nothing yet. 

“You know what we should do?” says Erica as Isaac keeps rubbing happy little circles into his skin. “We should have a baby shower.” 

“Are you being serious?” 

“Why not? It’s a big day. Isaac wants the thing, and until they cut it out of him he’s still its father. I say we celebrate that while we can.” 

Stiles looks to Isaac. He feels like there’s something uncomfortably macabre about that, pretending there’s any happiness for Isaac at the end of the pregnancy, but Isaac is smiling. “Sounds cool,” he says. “Let’s do it.” 

So they do. 

Kira sweet-talks the orderlies into bringing them some chocolate and cans of soda. Stiles gets some paper and pens so they can play some games, like Draw the Baby and Guess the Sex and Baby Hangman, which seems appropriately dark. They tell dumb stories about their own births and childhoods, drawing in the other omegas in the room. Someone remembers the videos for toddler omegas OSS put out, trying to teach the joys of homemaking from an early age, and they all fall apart laughing as they remember the stupid cartoon characters singing about pie-making and ironing. Eventually they’re so loud that the orderlies break it up and send them to bed early, but Isaac can’t stop grinning with the paper sash Erica had made him hanging off his shoulders. Even Heather has stopped crying. 

It feels almost like a rebellion without any guilt or fear. Just a moment of happiness they'd made for themselves. Stiles catches himself smiling as he drifts off to sleep. 

# 

That’s the last good day for a long time. 

Erica hits viability the next week and starts to feel the baby’s kicks right after that. She hates feeling it move; hates the way she looks; hates the way she feels. The orderlies have to start restraining her so she won’t try and hurt herself, which they haven’t had to do since she first arrived. 

Jennifer decides that Boyd is rehabilitated enough to be mated, and to keep her from sending him away from Erica he punches out an orderly and gets a week in the basement. He cracks down there, calling out Erica’s name when they bring him up, and Jennifer begins to suspect they’re together. The orderlies are told to keep them apart during the day. 

Stiles has to go in for another appointment with Haigh and sees that his son has already been labelled “Baby Argent” on his forms. The idea of it makes his skin crawl, but the thought of trying to escape just seems exhausting to him. 

Kira’s initial determination wilts under therapy, and Stiles sees her sitting quietly day after day, staring at her hands blankly. “Are you okay?” he asks her eventually, huddling next to her so they can talk quietly. 

She shakes her head. “I don’t…I can’t remember anymore why I did it.” 

“You wanted to see what they were telling the alphas about us. How they were selling us. You wanted everyone to know.” 

“But…” 

“Kira, you did it for a reason.” 

Her eyes fill with tears. “But it was _bad_ ,” she whispers. 

Stiles fights off a shudder. He’s seen this happen to other omegas here— the confusion as they hover between who they are and who the OSS wants them to be; the desire to just be _good_ so they can stop being punished and finally have what they’re supposed to want more than anything. He knows he can’t stop it from happening to Kira. It’s like a disease. Eventually, once his baby is gone, it will happen to him too. 

He can already feel it happening, now that he’s let himself sink into hopelessness. He finds himself leaning into the orderlies’ touches, and dropping his gaze to the ground without being told, and quietly telling Morrell everything she wants to hear without mocking her in his head. He is a bad omega. He’d always been a bad omega, and relished it. This is the first time he’s ever been ashamed. 

And sometimes, in his very darkest moments, he thinks that maybe they are right. Maybe he isn’t a fit parent, and maybe Lucky needs to be taken away from him. Maybe he’s always had it wrong, and he’s just supposed to obey, and be quiet, and be _happy_. 

“Then maybe it’s time to be good,” he says to Kira, meeting her eyes hopelessly when she looks to see if he’s kidding. _Be good_. Surely it can’t be as hard as he’d always thought. 

Then, from down the hall, he hears screaming. 

The orderlies in the room dash away to see what’s going on and Stiles follows. He can see Heather being forcibly carried out of Jennifer’s office, hands pinned behind her back as she screams and screams without stopping. 

Jennifer steps out after her, completely unshaken except for a slightly deeper-than-usual scowl. “Keep her in her room. Move her roommate out for the night. She’s not taking meals with the others until it’s over. Remember that she can’t eat anything twelve hours before the procedure.” 

Stiles’s heart drops down to his stomach. _Oh, no. No, no, no._ She’s only weeks away from viability. They’d already started planning another baby shower… 

Heather is thrashing in the arms of the orderlies, but she sees Stiles and stretches out a hand imploringly. “Don’t let them do it!” she screams. “I’m good, I’m _good!_ Don’t let them kill her, Stiles! _Please!_ ” 

Jennifer grabs him by the back of the neck. “What are you doing here? Get back to the common room.” 

“Stiles!” Heather wails again. “Please stop them! I talk to her all the time like you told me and I love her, she’s _mine_ , you can’t let them—” 

Jennifer’s hold tightens. “Go ahead, Stiles,” she says, pushing him towards Heather. “Apparently you encouraged her to bond with it, so fix this. Make her feel better.” 

Stiles can’t bear it. He has to do this, to keep his own baby safe, no matter how much it kills him. “I’m sorry, Heather,” he says. He doesn’t want to look at her but Jennifer keeps holding him, wanting this to hurt them both as much as possible. “I can’t stop them. Just…say goodbye to the baby tonight. Let it…let _her_ know she’s loved. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Heather sags in the arms of the orderlies. Then she tilts back her head and lets out one last scream, one that Stiles is sure will ring in his ears for the rest of his life. It echoes down the hall as they take her away. 

Jennifer lets him go. “Do not talk to your baby in your head,” she orders quietly. “It belongs to the Argents, not you. Understand?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“What is happening to Heather is in her best interest. She became much too attached to the baby, because of you. Are you sorry for that?” 

“Yes, ma’am. I’m very sorry.” 

“Good. Get to bed.” 

She releases him and he scrambles away, thinking he’s going to throw up. He can see orderlies standing guard outside Heather’s room, and when he passes he can hear her pounding on the door, still screaming. It’s true. He _had_ encouraged her to bond. Whenever she was crying over her lost boyfriend and reputation it was the only thing that could make her smile, to think about what the baby she had decided was a daughter would eventually look like. 

Now she’ll never know. Nobody will ever know. 

He collapses onto his bed and grabs his pillow, wanting to scream into it. He’s so tired of this, so _fucking_ tired. He just wants to go home. He wants to think of his baby without feeling a crushing hopelessness. He wants… 

He grabs Derek’s carving and squeezes it until the wolf is imprinted on his palm. He wants Derek; he still wants Derek; he’ll probably always want Derek. But where is Derek? He could be dead for all Stiles knows. Stiles think of the last time he saw Derek, with those black glasses sliding down his nose, shock and indecision all over his face. _Come with me_. Why hadn’t he insisted? If he’d just ordered, if he’d just been a fucking _alpha_ like he was supposed to be, and forced Stiles to obey and follow, they would be safe; they would be _fine_. But he’d let Stiles make the decision and left and now Stiles is alone, _alone, ALONE_ … 

He hurls the wolf carving with all his force against the wall and watches numbly as it cracks in two. For a moment he just stares, and then the weight of what he’s done hits him. 

_No_. 

Not the one thing he had left of Derek. Not the only tangible proof that once Stiles was more than this— that once he was loved. Not broken by his own hand; his own moment of fury. It isn’t fair. It belongs to him, and he was so careful. He’d kept it safe. For Derek, for the baby, for the very sake of hope, he’d kept it. And now… 

He stumbles over and picks it up, trying to force it back together. He sobs that he didn’t mean to. That he wants to take it back. The wooden ends splinter in his hands, cracking even further, and when Isaac comes into the room Stiles is inconsolably clutching what has been irreparably broken to his chest, telling the whole world how very, very sorry he is. 

# 

All of Eichen seems like a tomb the next morning as Isaac and Stiles walk to breakfast. “Do you know what time it’s happening?” Isaac asks. 

Stiles shakes his head. “They have to give her twenty-four hour notice, right? So I guess maybe around four.” 

“God help us when she gets out.” 

Stiles shudders. “God help _her_ when she gets out.” 

Suddenly an orderly rushes past them. “Get up against the wall!” he barks. “Now!” 

They do immediately, slapping their hands above their heads and facing the wall as if they’re about to be frisked. There are more footsteps and Stiles looks over his shoulder to see what looks like every orderly in the place and Jennifer. Her eyes are wide and furious, mouth slack with shock. He lets himself dream that the cavalry is here. 

“Goddamnit,” Jennifer snarls. “What the _fuck_ was the guard doing all night?” 

“She didn’t make a sound,” an orderly says softly. “Stopped screaming around midnight and we just figured she was asleep. She must’ve stood on the top bunk…” 

Jennifer sees Stiles and Isaac and points her finger down the hall. “Common room. _Now_. Stay there until we come and get you, and don’t you make a fucking sound or I will lock you downstairs until you give birth.” 

They scramble past her. Stiles turns as they go by, needing to see whose room it is to confirm what he already knows. 

It’s Heather’s room. 

The door is open. 

She hangs from the ceiling fan with a noose made of bedsheets, eyes wide and finally dry, neck snapped by the weight of the baby she’d wanted so much. 

Isaac makes a choking sound but Stiles just stares, memorizing the sight of her. There she is: the good omega, who had tried so hard to obey, showing him what freedom looks like. He wonders how it had felt. If maybe, for a moment, she had thought she was flying. 

# 

Derek hadn’t meant to fall in love with Stiles. 

He just hadn’t wanted to give up his territory. 

For years he was used to people being afraid of him. When he was young he’d have nightmares about the people in town hunting down his family and killing them, which his mother had laughed off— _They’re more afraid of you than you are of them, Derek._

She’d been wrong on one count, because eventually the hunters had come and killed his family. But she was right about the fear. Their fear of him made them hate him. Eventually it made him hate himself. He’d wished he had been the monster they thought he was, because then he wouldn’t care. But Derek was too much a human to be a predator, and too much a predator to be accepted by humans. 

When he saw the kid in the woods he thought it was a trap. He knew it was the sheriff’s son, and while John Stilinski had never acted against Derek he’d always sort of expected him to show up one day with handcuffs and whisk Derek away. He’d wondered if it was some kind of sting operation— the most beautiful, sweet-smelling omega in town sent to the woods like a virgin sacrifice. He’d imagined snipers in trees waiting for Derek to pounce so they would finally have a reason to shoot. It infuriated him. The woods _were_ his safe place, and he snarled at Stiles to get him to leave. Of all the places and things he would be chased from in the world, the woods were not one of them. 

But Stiles hadn’t left. He’d sat there, and Derek had waited him out with guarded curiosity. The clearing was his favorite place on earth, one of the one untainted places left where he had good memories of his family. He hadn’t wanted the kid to think he had some sort of claim on it now. 

And, once he’d actually started listening to the kid rambling on, Derek had liked his voice. The cheerful eagerness of it; the sarcastic edge he refused to curb. He’d liked the things he said— weird little insights about nature, stories about his dad and friend Scott, little comments about life as an omega that reminded Derek of his sister. 

Somewhere in that first conversation he’d flipped from wishing the kid would leave to wishing he would stay. When it got dark out and Stiles had stood to leave he’d said, ‘See you tomorrow,” and Derek had returned the next day, telling himself it was just a territory thing. A wolf thing. Not a human thing at all. And besides, the kid probably wouldn’t even come back. 

But he did. 

All Derek had ever needed was for someone to _come back._

He’d fallen in love with Stiles in the slow, mesmerizing way of a sunrise: something bright and beautiful creeping into all the dark places, until it’s impossible to remember the night. Just like all things that live in the darkness, Derek had begun to fade away, forgetting he was not only a wolf, but a man, who needed the moon _and_ the sun. 

Stiles had _saved_ him. So Derek will save him now. No matter what it takes. 

He reminds himself of that over and over as he stands silently against the wall in a stranger’s house, watching Scott McCall talk eagerly with the school friend who’s going to help them get one step closer to Stiles. Everything about this goes against Derek’s instincts, but they have to have a plan, and is the best they’ve got. 

He’s been working with Scott and John Stilinski for weeks now, finding out everything they can about the omega rehabilitation clinic holding Stiles and slowly solidifying the plan to get Derek inside. Even after all that time of planning, Derek is going to be doing a lot of winging it. For right now all he needs is his foot in the door at Eichen, and they’ll figure out the rest from there. 

“Done,” the boy says. Danny, his name is, and he’s been eyeing Derek like he expects him to start ripping out throats. “Come see.” 

Derek stalks over to peer at the ID card Danny has made for them, his picture with another person’s name and statistics filled in. He scowls. “ _Miguel?_ ” 

“Hey, man. I don’t make the identities. I just steal them.” 

“Do I look like a Miguel to you?” 

Danny shrugs. “I’d buy it.” 

Derek rolls his eyes. “Whatever. What’s his story?” 

“He’s worked for the OSS in Oklahoma for five years, with two years as an attendant in the Oklahoma omega rehabilitation center. Trained in omega comfort, restraint, and sexual therapy.” 

Derek’s skin crawls. “What is sexual therapy?” 

“Forced heats, digital penetration, alpha fellation and cunnilingus…” 

_If they’ve done that to Stiles_ … Derek sinks his claws into his palms before Danny sees that they’ve popped out. “Is this Miguel still working there?” 

“Nah, he left a couple months ago to take another job, but I forged paperwork saying he left that positon because he had to move to Beacon Hills. He was mated last year, so if they ask, you can say you had to get your omega away from its family, or whatever. I’ve listed two references for you on your fake resume, both the names of people at the Oklahoma facility, but if they call the numbers go to me and Scott.” 

Derek nods, glancing quickly at Scott to make sure he’s on board. Scott flashes him a thumbs-up. He’d been a little wary around Derek at first, if not downright suspicious, but, as he’d said to Derek, “Any secret forest boyfriend of Stiles’s is a jail-break-planning partner of mine.” It’s not hard to see why Stiles had never shut up about him. If Derek knew how to make friends, he thinks Scott would be a good one. “So are we good to go?” 

“All you have to do is schedule the interview with them.” 

“Good.” He looks at Scott again. “Phone.” 

Scott tosses it to him and he walks into the closet for privacy. It rings and rings, and for a second he worries nobody will pick up, until: “Jennifer Blake.” 

“Hi, Ms. Blake. My name is…” he glances at the ID and grimaces. “Miguel Figorino. I worked as an attendant at Beecher House, the omega rehab in Oklahoma.” 

“Hi, Mr. Figorino. What can I do for you?” 

“I’ve recently moved to the area and I was wondering if you had any open positions at Eichen House, so I could continue my omega therapy work.” 

She pauses. “I don’t know if we do. I think we have all the staff we need at the moment.” 

_Fuck_. “Could I at least come in for an interview? That way, if your needs changed, I could start work as soon as possible.” 

He can hear papers rustling on the other end of the line. “You know, we’re a little swamped…but sure. I suppose that couldn’t hurt. Would you be free…May 18th?” 

His heart plummets. That’s nearly three weeks from now. “Nothing earlier?” 

“No, I’m afraid not.” 

If that’s the best they can do they have to take it. “That’s fine.” 

They work out the details and Derek hangs up. He wonders if Blake knows Stiles— if she’s hurt him. If she has, he vows silently, he won’t be leaving her alive. 

He walks back out to the room. “Three weeks till they can interview me.” 

Scott grimaces. “I guess that’ll give us enough time to go up there and find a place.” 

John has to stay in Beacon Hills, but Scott has decided that saving Stiles is more important than finishing high school. “It’s not like I’ll ever get a decent job now that I’m a werewolf,” he’d pointed out to Derek, and Derek couldn’t argue with that. They’re going to get an apartment near Eichen House together so Scott can help with the actual escape. “Are you ready to leave now?” 

“Yeah. Thanks, Danny.” 

Derek reaches out to shake the kid’s hand. “Thank you.” 

Danny shakes back. “No problem. Just get Stilinski out of there.” He looks grave. “He was a shit lacrosse player, but a hell of a guy. Take care of him.” 

“We will.” Derek nods to Scott and they head out together. If they leave right now they can make it to the town closest to Eichen before dark. “Road trip,” Scott says as they get into Derek's car. 

“Mess with the radio and I’ll kill you.” 

“Sorry, that’s the co-pilot’s job.” 

Derek snorts. Yeah. He can see why Stiles and Scott are friends. 

# 

He uses Miguel’s identity to get an apartment for him and Scott in a town a few miles from Eichen House. “They said it’s gated, and there’s only one road up to it,” Scott reports after they’ve moved in and he’s done some snooping around town. “Apparently they built it right in the middle of the woods to keep the omegas from running away.” 

Derek frowns. He’d sent Scott out to learn if there was some way to drive by Eichen, so they could scope out what the place looked like. “The woods, huh?” 

“Yeah.” Scott grins at him. “That might stop lesser men than us.” 

Since he’s started working with Scott, Derek has been teaching him how to control his shifts, so he can be in his full wolf form any time without losing himself. “Are you able to stay shifted for an hour or two?” 

“I think so. Can you find the way there?” 

“Absolutely.” 

Scott grins and bounces on his toes, obviously up for an adventure. “Then I say we go.” 

They leave the apartment together and drive through town until they get to the edge of the woods. The thought of getting even a little closer to Stiles makes the wolf under Derek’s skin rumble in excitement, and it’s a relief to shift and let instinct drive him forward. 

These woods are deep and Derek imagines that if any omega managed to escape Eichen they would lose their way out here and have no chance of finding safety. Even he has to go slowly, constantly keeping track of their direction, while Scott follows obediently behind. Someday, assuming they all survive this rescue mission, Derek will have to teach him how to track. 

Eventually the scent of the woods begins to curdle with traces of humanity: sewage and exhaust fuel and metal. Derek presses low to the ground and slinks forward until he can see through the edge of the tree line. 

There it is. 

There’s a fence, too high to jump and impossible to chew through. The only way in and out is going to be through the gate, and he can see a guard tower ensuring no unauthorized persons are escaping that way. He wonders if maybe there’s a delivery entrance or something, but it’s hard to tell from here. They might have to come back at night, when they won’t be so exposed, to get another look. 

He’s squinting up at the guard tower, trying to see how many cameras are up there, when he hears Scott chuff behind him. Derek looks and sees that one of the doors to the facility are open and people are coming out into the courtyard. They’re all dressed in similar clothing and hunched over, moving in shuffling steps, and Derek’s heart leaps. The omegas. 

He doesn’t see Stiles and he begins to panic. If Stiles isn’t here he might be hurt, or dead, or shipped off to become the property of some faraway alpha. After all this they might be too late, and if they are… 

Then Derek sees him. 

He’s huddled with a group of other omegas, right by the fence. His face is too thin, mouth folded in a very un-Stiles-like grimace, but his _belly_ — it’s round enough that one hand rests on top, and as Derek watches he massages out a kink in his lower back. He’s still pregnant. The reality of the pregnancy hits Derek for the first time and he hears himself whine, consumed with the need to hold, comfort, _protect._

Scott nips at his tail when he starts to move forward unconsciously and Derek nearly jumps on him, lost for a moment in sheer primality. Nothing should be keeping him from that omega and pup. Nature demands that he hold them both close, providing whatever his omega needs to be happy and healthy. He should be hunting down deer or something right now, anything with protein to fill out Stiles’s face again. Then cuddling or sex, whatever will makes Stiles smile. He needs to make Stiles strong, because soon he will be delivering their baby, a beautiful pup to bring new life to a pack Derek thought was dead. 

It’s going to be _wonderful_ ; the absolute best life, and he has to go and claim it _right now_. If he was just a little closer to Stiles he could hear his baby’s heartbeat. The thought fills him with excitement and he snarls at Scott when the other wolf bites at him again. 

Scott’s eyes are huge and apologetic. He whimpers at Derek and takes a step back. He wants them to leave. He wants to _stick to the plan_. 

Derek can’t leave his omega and pup among strangers. Stiles looks so tired. Who knows what might happen within the next two weeks? He should just go by instinct— fight his way inside, ripping out the throats of anyone who gets in his way. If he was just a wolf, unable to think on any other instinct, that would be the only course of action. 

But he’s more than a wolf. Stiles taught him that. 

He whines again, taking one last look at Stiles. _I’m here_ , he thinks as though Stiles can hear him, and watches as Stiles tips his head up to get a face full of sunlight. He backs away slowly, vowing silently to return every day, watching over Stiles until he can finally get inside and come face-to-face with him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: A minor character introduced in this chapter learns she will receive a forced abortion, and commits suicide by hanging before it can happen.
> 
> NEXT UP: Stiles finds an unlikely ally within Eichen, and Derek meets Jennifer Blake.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, trigger warning in the end notes!

According to some of the omegas who have been here for a while, this is the first suicide in Eichen’s history. Jennifer is worried about losing her job, but nobody is getting their hopes up. They know it will eventually just be blamed on Heather. A hormonal imbalance that no one could have predicted. A blessing in disguise, since now she will never poison an alpha’s home. 

The omegas sit in the common room for hours before Jennifer comes out to speak with them. “We’re going to be making some changes,” she announces without preamble, eyes wild with anger. “You will no longer have privacy within your rooms. Cameras will be installed and an orderly will constantly monitor them. We’re also abolishing the twenty-four hour notice requirement before an abortion, to eliminate undue stress in that waiting period.” 

The omegas all stay completely silent, though they must be furious about the new rules. Stiles certainly is. He imagines just being grabbed and dragged to Haigh’s office without warning, or being knocked out with gas and waking up to find his baby is gone. It’s _sick_. As he thinks about how sick it is, it’s like his heart starts pumping blood again. The numbness of the past month is replaced by something else. Hatred. He hates Jennifer, and the orderlies, and the Argents, and Morrell. It feels so good to hate them that it almost hurts after so much time feeling nothing. 

When he looks back up at Jennifer he sees Dr. Morrell standing just behind her, lips pressed tightly together. She meets Stiles’s gaze for a moment and then looks away with something like shame. 

“And I will make one thing perfectly clear,” Jennifer continues. “If I hear anyone glorifying Heather’s weakness, or threatening to do the same to themselves— I promise that you will be very, very sorry. In my office I have a form with a blank line where any of your names can go, and that form is an application for a prefrontal leucotomy. Does anyone know what that is?” 

If anyone does, they’re too scared to answer. 

“ _That_ is a procedure that will ensure you never, ever act up again. You all know it as a lobotomy. I’m sure you learned in school that they used to be routinely prescribed for omegas but have recently fallen out of practice. That’s true— but Dr. Harris knows how to perform them. All I have to do is submit that form to a three person panel within the OSS and wait for approval. As far as I’m concerned every one of you would benefit from it. It’ll calm your reactionary little thoughts and ensure you become the good boys and girls you refuse to be. Most importantly, it keeps all your breeding bits in working order, so it’s a no-loss for everyone.” She’s practically spitting venom and the omegas closest to her nearly collapse in their efforts to cringe away. “Quiet, docile, _perfect_. Become that way on your own, or go under the knife. It’s your choice.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” a few brave people quake out. Stiles is not one of them. He keeps his eyes trained to the ground, breathing in and out slowly. He thinks of Heather and lets the hatred crash within him like a tidal wave. 

# 

It isn’t until the next day that order is restored and Stiles is taken to an early-morning therapy session with Morrell. The doctor looks disheveled, hair falling out of a messy bun, and she flits her gaze around the room instead of locking her eyes on Stiles like she usually does. 

“We need to talk about what happened yesterday,” she says, voice shaking. “I know you must be…very disturbed.” 

Stiles doesn’t say anything. 

“Heather was…I knew she was having trouble. I tried to speak with Jennifer about it, but it’s hard for her to understand emotional states. She tried to make a decision in Heather’s best interest and…well, obviously she miscalculated. It was a tragic accident. But please don’t let it ruin your own healing process. You won’t end up like Heather. You can still be very happy.” 

Her voice breaks on the last word and Stiles finally looks at her. “So what do I have to do that Heather didn’t do? What magic switch do I have to flip inside myself to just _let go_ , huh? Because I understand why she did it. I— ” he hears his own voice break. “It’s my fault she did it. I told her to talk to the baby in her head and let herself love it. I told her to make it _hers_ , so when they wanted to take it away from her, she snapped. I understand. I would probably do the same thing if I was in her position.” 

Morrell stares at him. “You talk to your baby in your head?” 

He’d never told her that before. He nods, clasping his hands between his legs, waiting to be scolded or punished. _Let her._ He doesn’t care anymore. 

Instead she ducks her head so her hair swings like a curtain over her face. “My omega used to do that,” she whispers. “He told me that made more sense to him than talking to it out loud.” 

Stiles watches her guardedly. “I didn’t know you had kids.” 

“I don’t. There was a complication only a few weeks before he was due. My mate was anemic and…the doctors told me it was his fault, that he must not have taken his iron supplements correctly. They even thought about pressing charges against him. I talked them down, but I was furious at him. I told him I wouldn’t get him pregnant again until I knew he could be trusted to carry my child.” 

Stiles shifts in his seat. She’s shared some personal stories before, as a tactic to try and get him to open up, but this feels…different. “So do you trust him now?” 

Morrell shudders. “He’s not with me anymore.” 

Stiles feels his hatred rise up again on behalf of this unnamed omega. “You got rid of him?” Defective omegas who can’t bear children are often tossed aside, with their mating contracts broken by their alphas. They usually end up in group homes run by the OSS, which indenture the omegas out in service positions. It’s a horrific life. 

Morrell shakes her head. Her shoulders are quaking and Stiles realizes in horror that she’s crying. “I didn’t know he was so unhappy,” she whispers. 

Oh. _Oh_. No wonder Heather’s suicide is affecting her. “He killed himself,” Stiles guesses quietly. 

“I know it was my fault, for not understanding him. I didn’t know then what I know now. That’s why I got my degree and took this job— all I want to do is help omegas, Stiles. I just want to show you how to be happy.” 

“I can’t ever be happy your way. Don’t you get that? You want me to be a slave and love it, but I won’t. I _can’t!_ ” Stiles gets off the couch and kneels down next to her. “Please, Dr. Morrell. You want to help us? _Help us_. Get us out of here.” 

She only shakes her head again. “I can’t change the world, Stiles. I can only change _you_ , so you fit in the world we have. Please, just accept that. I don’t want to see you dead like Heather, or wind up lobotomized. I don’t agree with much of what Jennifer does; I think you know that now. I won’t give her any reason to hurt you.” 

“Let me go,” he begs. “Drive me out of here. Do something, do _anything_. I don’t want to lose my baby. I don’t want to be mated against my will. Please, _please_. I’m not asking you to change the world. I just want to be free.” 

“You’ll die out there, if I let you go. There are no camps in the mountains for you. Either you’ll die, or be caught and punished and wind right back up here.” Morrell dabs her eyes with a tissue. “I’m sorry,” she says, and sounds like she means it. “I will try and keep you safe from Jennifer. I’ll tell her you’re cooperating with me. But I can’t get you out of here, Stiles.” 

“Please—” 

“I will do everything I can to help you. But don’t ask that of me. Not now.” She closes her eyes and he leans back, accepting that this is the most he can get. They sit like that, completely silent, for the rest of the session. 

# 

The omegas are allowed outside later that day. Erica is in a bad state— Boyd had been taken away that morning for some new sort of therapy and he hasn’t come back since. “He’s getting hurt because of me,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around herself and wincing when the baby kicks. “What if they’re lobotomizing him?” 

“Jennifer wouldn’t really do that. It was just a threat.” Stiles’s voice sounds much more hopeful than he feels. “Besides, Boyd never acts up. She wouldn’t choose him for it. Let’s be honest, she’s totally keeping that in her pocket as a special treat for me.” 

“Seriously,” Isaac says, trying for a smile. “She hates you the most.” 

“Yeah, well, some people just walk in the light. Boyd’s flown under the radar. She would never do anything terrible to him.” 

Erica’s lip trembles. “But some day. Some day he’s going to have to change. We both will. Sooner or later we’ll have to give in to them. I mean— we can’t go on like this forever, can we?” 

Stiles doesn’t know how to answer that. He squints off into the forest, wishing today more than ever he could just hop over the fence and fly into the woods. Something moves in the shadows of the trees and he tries to focus his eyes on it. He hardly ever sees wild animals out there but there’s something reflective, like the eyes of something watching him. 

“Stiles!” A hand grabs him by the neck and he jumps. “Shh, honey. Didn’t mean to startle you. You’re going in early today.” 

“Why?” 

The orderly holding him gives him a stern look. “Because it’s what Jennifer wants, that’s why. Be a good boy now, come on.” 

He doesn’t even get to say goodbye to his friends. Instead he meekly lets the orderly lead him inside, swearing he hears the faintest of growls coming from beyond the fence. 

# 

Jennifer is waiting in an empty therapy room with Harris, who is wearing black leather gloves. “Hello, Stiles,” she says, nodding to the other orderly in thanks. “Ready for therapy?” 

Stiles crosses his arms over his belly defensively. “I don’t see Dr. Morrell, ma’am.” 

“This is a different kind of therapy. We usually wait until you’re no longer pregnant to start this work, but if the tragedy with Heather has taught us anything, it’s that it’s never too soon to help you heal. On your knees, please.” 

Stiles stays standing. “Why?” 

“Because I said so. And if that’s not good enough for you, because I’ll punish you if you don’t obey. Would you like me to detail that punishment, or would you like to shut up and kneel?” 

“I love our little talks,” Stiles mutters, sinking down to his knees just as the door swings shut. 

“Harris is going to be assisting us today. You see, Stiles, by allowing yourself to be taken by an alpha while you were in heat, you formed a bond that we have to eradicate before you can be given to another alpha or beta. After you’ve given birth we can use shock therapy, but play-mating now can help us build a foundation. Harris is going to be serving as your alpha. Today we’re going to simply work on touch and smell. We’ll work our way up to digital penetration 

Nope. Fuck this and fuck her. “You really think you can destroy an emotional bond this way?” 

“You don’t have an emotional bond with anyone. There is no such thing. The relationships an omega forms with its mate and children are purely chemical. That’s all you have with your mystery alpha, Stiles. It’s simply a chemical reaction in your brain, and an omega’s brain is extraordinarily malleable. We will break the bond, give you a clean slate, and then ensure you are bonded with a proper mate, this time for life. Today Harris will be using gloves, since the skin-on-skin for a prolonged period of time can be overwhelming. Harris, let’s get started.” 

He tries to get to his feet, but he’s too top-heavy and he’s barely moved before Harris has a hand clamped around his neck, thumb pressing against his pulse. It makes him go boneless and he struggles for air, terrified the alpha might choke him. 

“That’s it,” Jennifer murmurs, circling them. “That feels good, doesn’t it, Stiles? This is just like the neck hold you’re used to, taken to its extreme. It’s called the control hold. It will calm and ground you if you’re overwrought.” 

Harris’s fingers dig into his skin as he rubs circles against Stiles’s fluttering pulse. Stiles hears himself gag as he tries to adjust. It _hurts_. 

“Lift your chin, Stiles. That’s the only way to make it comfortable.” 

He’s never bared his throat to an alpha before. It’s a clear sign of submission, of _weakness_. But he’s going to choke if he doesn’t, so he lifts up his chin and sucks in a breath. 

“Good boy. It’ll feel better when your alpha is using a bare hand, but this works for now. After about a half hour, this hold will signal your neurons to release dopamine and serotonin and put you in a tranquil, euphoric state. That’s the same chemical reaction as when you were used in heat by an alpha. If an omega is repeatedly given this reaction by the same alpha over a prolonged period of time, they will eventually bond with the alpha, associating the elation with that alpha’s scent and constantly craving more. Like an addiction. Harris, stop.” 

Harris lifts his hand away and Stiles gasps for air. Tomorrow, he knows, his neck will be ringed with bruises. 

“Obviously the quickest and strongest release of dopamine and serotonin comes through orgasm, which is why the OSS encourages repeated sexual contact immediately following a contract. We won’t be allowing that until you’ve been mated, but today we’re going to begin training you to respond positively to an alpha’s arousal. _Do not struggle_. Harris?” 

The orderly opens the button on his pants to reveal thin cotton boxers, bulging with his erection. There’s a damp spot of precome and he shoves Stiles’s nose into it. Stiles is immediately overwhelmed by the smell of alpha, so different from Derek that it almost makes him gag again. He can’t get away from it. 

“Stop resisting,” Jennifer says softly. She drops down next to him and cups the back of his head to hold it steady. “This is a good thing. Look how hard he is. _You_ did that. Just breathe in and out. I know this isn’t the alpha you want right now. But all you need to know is that it’s an alpha who’s here and wants you.” 

Stiles keeps his eyes screwed up tight. She’s _wrong_ ; it hadn’t been about chemicals or the right amount of pressure on his neck or a _smell._ It was an emotional bond between him and Derek. It was not dopamine and serotonin. She can’t erase it. 

“Come on, Stiles. Breathe. Think about how good this alpha could make you feel. Don’t you want to suck him? Or let him fuck you?” The crude words are jarring coming from her. “Think of his knot plugging you up. You could be such a good boy for him, couldn’t you? But you need to make it easy for him. You need to get wet so he can fuck you. Get out of your own head and let your body to the work. If you get wet for him I’ll let you up.” 

Stiles writhes in her grip. He’s not mindless. He’s not a fucktoy. He’s not going to get aroused at this, because he’s known more and he’s known better. This could never substitute what he had with Derek. 

“Let go, Stiles. Just let yourself feel good.” 

He can’t. He _won’t._

He goes completely limp. Jennifer tries to push his nose right up against Harris’s crotch but he doesn’t respond, just squeezes his eyes shut. “Okay,” Jennifer says in disgust, releasing him. “That’s how we want to play today?” 

“Sorry,” Stiles croaks. 

“No, you’re not. But I’m not going to punish you. It’s only our first day, and we have many, many to go. We’re going to keep doing this. You can deny it all you want, but this is what your body was made for. And once the baby is born, and there’s nothing left to bond you to the alpha who fathered it, you won’t be able to resist.” She stands. “Take him back to his room, Harris. Thanks for your help today.” 

The orderly grabs Stiles by the neck again and pulls him up before marching him down the hall. “Wait,” Stiles chokes out. “I need a bathroom.” 

“Hold it.” 

“But I’m going to—” he gags and Harris quickly steers him towards the bathroom. “I’ll be waiting right outside,” he warns before the door swings shut. 

Stiles bends over the toilet and vomits. He knows full well that Jennifer wasn’t lying when she said they were going to keep doing this; she’s overcompensating with rehabilitation efforts in response to Heather’s death. He has a terrible suspicion that Boyd underwent the same thing earlier. 

And how long can he fight it? What will it take before he stops fighting his own body? Derek is nothing more than a memory. They’re going to take his baby and give it to the Argents. Like Erica had said, omegas can’t fight forever. The OSS is an unstoppable force, and he is not an immovable object. He’s just one omega. And all he has to keep him going is _hatred_. 

No. That can’t be all he has left. 

He stumbles to the sink and fills his mouth with water, spitting out the taste of his bile. He thinks of Derek’s softly fond, exasperated looks and begrudging snort of laughter. He thinks of his baby; imagines him like a bright light in the darkness, glowing so radiantly that Stiles would know him even if they were separated. His dad’s hugs. Scott’s crooked grin. His mom, who he thinks would be proud of him for still fighting. 

_I love you_ , he thinks, to Lucky and Derek and everyone else out there who has loved him back. _I love you. And I won’t ever let them take that._

# 

“Okay,” Scott says. “Pretend I’m Jennifer Blake and you just walked in for the interview.” 

Derek sighs. They’ve been running this scenario for the past two weeks. “I walk in, give her a copy of the resume, and introduce myself.” 

“Show me how you walk in.” 

Derek rolls his eyes and stalks from the apartment door to the sofa. “Like that.” 

“No. You’re walking like Derek Hale, not Miguel Figorino. You have to walk with confidence.” 

“Jesus Christ, Scott. What the hell is this, _Pretty Werewolf?_ ” 

“I’m serious. If you walk in there like that, with your shoulders all hunched up and that defensive scowl on your face, she’s going to know something’s up. Anyone who has ever caught a glimpse of you on the sidewalk would recognize you right away. You’ve got to camouflage yourself.” 

Derek forces a smile. 

“Not like that. Look— you might be an alpha, but you were never taught what that means. You’re on top of the world. Nobody steps on you. You’re highest on the food chain, and you act like that _every second_. Right now, you look like you’re used to being kicked. You have to become a whole other person.” Scott stands. “Look at me. I’m an alpha. _I_ make the rules. People _respect_ me.” 

“If you start pounding your chest I’m making you sleep in the bathtub.” 

“You have to own it, Derek. Imagine a life where nobody ever told you no. Where you were just expected to be a leader, a fucking statute of, like, _machismo_ , every second. I lived that life for seventeen years. And you know what? It _sucked_. But I didn’t realize that until I became a werewolf and it got taken away. I always just thought it was my due. So be a fucking alpha!” Scott points to the door. “Go outside. Walk in as Miguel. Do not be a werewolf, or this plan is doomed before we start.” 

Derek scowls at him but Scott’s tone had brooked no argument, so he steps outside, rolls his shoulders, and cracks his neck. Be an alpha. He can do that. He thinks of the very worst alphas he’s seen in his life: Deucalion and Kate Argent. As he pictures them his chin rises, mouth flattening into a haughty line. His hands, usually crossed defensively over his chest or just hanging in loose fists, flatten and rest easily at his side. His spine straightens. When he catches sight of himself in the window he’s surprised. He looks like the sort of alpha Stiles would have hated. 

He knocks just to hear the thud against the door, then opens up and steps inside without being asked. “Hello, Ms. Blake,” he says. His voice sounds louder, maybe even fuller than usual. “My name is Miguel Figorino. We have an interview.” 

On the bed, Scott grins and nods approvingly. “There,” he says. “That should do it.” 

# 

The next morning Derek gets up early so he can read over Miguel’s resume one last time. They’re banking on him getting hired today; if not he’s going to have to wing an escape plan with no knowledge of the inside. Their biggest concern is someone recognizing him— he knows he’d never met Blake before, but any of the inpatient omegas might be from Beacon Hills, and he’d met a few OSS people when they’d come for Cora and he’d gone in to look at Stiles’s file. If someone outs him it’s all over. 

They need luck, and lots of it. Hopefully he has a built-up reserve he can tap today. 

Scott sends him off like a mother hen. “You’ve got your cell? Call me if you need me up there. Don’t try to fight it out alone.” 

“Got it.” 

“Good luck, man.” 

Derek drives up to Eichen slowly. The road through the woods is winding and seems to narrow as it goes. He imagines the omegas being driven in here, feeling like the woods are tightening around them, cutting off any chance of escape. 

At the gate he presses a call button, like Blake had instructed over the phone. “Miguel Figorino,” he says as confidently as possible. “I have an interview.” 

A beta steps out of the guard tower and gestures for him to step out. He does, lifting his arms so he can be patted down. The guard opens each car door and the trunk, doing a quick but thorough look-through. “Cars are searched going in and out,” he says. “No exceptions. Head on in.” 

Derek gets back in his car. When the gates swing open he drives through and parks in the small lot Blake had described. It’s a bleak place here and he feels itchy, like he just wants to shift and run. Or maybe he’s just reacting to Stiles’s proximity. 

He’d hoped for a glimpse of Stiles on his way to Jennifer’s office, but he doesn’t get that lucky. Instead he sees cameras, one pointing down each hallway. He wonders who watches them. They’ll need to be either off or unwatched when the time comes to get Stiles out. 

He finds Blake’s office and knocks, rolling back his shoulders like Scott had taught him. He’s Miguel. He’s an alpha. He’s in control. He’s— 

The door opens. 

“Mr. Figorino?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m Jennifer Blake. Come on in.” 

He steps into the closed office and inhales. It’s a small, largely airless room, with scent after scent layered on top of each other like coats of paint, but he can faintly smell something familiar. Stiles has been in here. “I appreciate you seeing me.” 

Blake smiles at him. She’s a bit severe-looking, but largely nonthreatening, enough so that someone less perceptive might confuse her for a beta. He wonders if she uses that to her advantage. “I’m glad you came in. Circumstances have changed since we talked, so it's good to have you here. Have a seat.” 

He takes a seat at the desk and hands over his resume. She scans it perfunctorily before sitting across from him. “So you’ve worked in omega rehabilitation for two years?” 

“Yes. With an additional four years of hands-on training.” 

“And you left Oklahoma why?” 

“I needed to be doing some rehabilitation at home. I was mated last year and my omega’s original family didn’t approve of our contract. They felt I was too harsh on him. I moved us away to ensure they wouldn’t be a problem anymore.” 

Jennifer makes a face. “I get very frustrated with people like that. I’m glad we’re increasing efforts to remove omegas from overly permissive homes early, to break unhealthy relationships between omega and parent.” 

Derek nods. “I was sorry to leave my job, though. I felt I was making good strides with the rehab’s patients.” 

“You’re trained in sexual therapy, correct? We’ve only recently started increasing our efforts in that area— we have a psychiatrist on staff who feels talk therapy is most effective, but between you and me, I don’t think she’s going to be here much longer. Have you ever used sexual therapy for conversion?” 

“You mean for gay omegas? Yes. Very successfully.” 

“What about with pregnant patients?” 

He blinks but recovers quickly, glad to have spent hours upon hours researching this shit with Scott. “Rarely, but effectively. Hormone changes in the body between the seventh and ninth month of pregnancy allow a pregnant omega to go into heat. If they’re handled correctly during that time the bond with the alpha who impregnated them can be broken, which also serves to sever or at least damage the bond between omega and child. Makes the actual moment of separation post-birth less traumatic.” 

Jennifer looks impressed. “I think I already have my answer to this, but you’re not afraid to be… rough with the omegas, are you? I can’t have orderlies here who start feeling sorry for our patients. That’s the worst thing you can do to an omega in this position.” 

“Trust me. I’m not afraid to be rough.” 

“Well, good. Very good. I’ll be straight with you, Mr. Figorino. We’re in a bit of a reconstructing period here. Recently one of our pregnant omegas committed suicide.” 

Derek’s heart gives a hard, painful thud. _Stiles_. No. He’d just seen Stiles in the courtyard two days ago. “That’s terrible.” 

“Yes. But it was a consequence of the permissive way we’ve been running things. We’re stepping up rehabilitative efforts, to stop the omegas from feeling like victims. The orderlies who were supposed to be guarding the omega have been dismissed, which means we have an opening. You seem like you would be perfect.” 

“I’m glad to hear it. When can I start?” 

Jennifer smiles. “How about immediately?” 

# 

Stiles is tired. Since Heather’s death everything has gotten so much worse. Minor transgressions, like asking a question of the orderlies or complaining about anything, are punished by a loss of courtyard privileges or corner time for hours. The cameras have gone up in their rooms and Stiles just feels _watched_ constantly. 

He’s had one more session with Harris and Jennifer. This time he had been tired and it had been harder to resist the smell of an aroused alpha. His body had jerked under Harris’s touch and he’d felt himself starting to get just a little bit hard as his brain shut down, telling him only that this was an alpha who was hard, and that meant pleasure for him. He’d gagged again, struggling, digging his nails into his thigh until he was back to himself. Jennifer had been pissed. Soon she’ll punish him for his disobedience. 

Or maybe he’ll give in first. 

His back hurts and he rubs at it absentmindedly. He’s only a week away from viability. After that milestone Jennifer told him he will be receiving more visits from the Argents, so they can bond with the baby right up to the moment it’s born. He’s getting bigger and heavier by the day. Soon he’ll never be able to run fast enough to escape. 

He slumps in his chair. Erica and Boyd are with him, looking just as tired. They’ve been undergoing sexual therapy too— it’s especially hard on Erica, but even Boyd, stoic Boyd, looks half a second from breaking down. 

_We can’t go on like this forever._

“Stiles,” an orderly calls. “You have a session with Dr. Morrell.” 

He should stand and walk over so the orderly can lead him there. But what’s the point? He and Morrell mainly just sit in silence now, accepting that neither can give the other what they want. 

Maybe he should just refuse. Make them carry him kicking and screaming. Let them lobotomize him, if it comes to that, so he doesn’t have to feel himself resisting every day for the rest of his life. 

“Stiles? Are you coming?” 

He sets his mouth stubbornly and crosses his arms over his chest. The orderly sighs and he hears footsteps coming toward him. “Okay, Stiles. If that’s how you want it.” 

“I’ll get him,” a gruff voice cuts in. A hand comes down on Stiles’s shoulder and he freezes. “Let’s go, omega.” 

Stiles turns, afraid to believe his own senses. It can’t be. 

Derek frowns down at him. He’s wearing the standard orderly uniform and thick glasses and he’s grown out his facial hair, but it’s undeniably him. Stiles gasps in his scent, waiting to wake up. This isn’t real. Derek is gone. It’s been five months and a lifetime and he was resigned to never seeing Derek again, but— 

Derek’s scowl deepens and he leans over Stiles to pull him up. He head bends until his lips are right next to Stiles’s ear and he hisses, “ _You don’t know me._ ” 

Stiles goes limp and lets Derek tug him to his feet. He meekly follows Derek away from the couch. “Nice job, new guy,” the orderly says. “You want to get him to Morrell’s office?” 

“Yeah.” Derek keeps his hand on Stiles’s shoulder. “Move it, omega.” 

Stiles’s legs shake as they walk away from the common room. Once they’re out of sight of the others Derek shifts his hand so the pads of his fingers rest against the bruises on Stiles’s neck. They’d been aching all day but Stiles feels the pain ebb, replaced with a tingling warmth. It feels real. It _is_ real. He’s awake. 

Derek is here. 

He knows cameras are capturing their every move so he doesn’t dare turn around to look. Derek leans in again, keeping up a constant stream of words just under his breath: 

“ _They think my name is Miguel. None of the orderlies have recognized me. If any of the omegas are from Beacon Hills and know who I am you’ll have to tell them to keep it quiet. If you understand, if you’re still with me, nod._ ” 

Stiles tips his head forward silently. 

“ _Everything’s okay. I'm here now. Scott’s with me. We planned this with your dad. We’re going to get you out of here, Stiles. Just stay strong for a few more days. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you._ ” 

They come to a stop in front of Morrell’s office. Derek shifts. To the cameras it will just look like he’s maneuvering around Stiles so he can knock on the door, but he’s actually pressing one hand over Stiles’s bump, right where Stiles has been expecting a kick any day now. “ _I love you,_ ” he whispers. “ _I love you both. I won’t let anyone hurt you again. We’re all going to be okay._ ” 

He knocks on the door, leaving his hand nestled over Stiles’s belly for one more second before taking it away. Morrell opens the door, still looking exhausted. “Hi, Stiles,” she says. Her gaze shifts to Derek and she frowns. “Do I know you?” 

“Figorino,” Derek grunts. “First day.” 

“Oh. Welcome. Our session lasts a half hour. We ask that you stand outside just in case the omegas become agitated and we need your assistance.” 

“No problem.” Derek doesn’t take his eyes off of Stiles. “I’ll be right here.” 

“Great, thanks.” Morrell swings the door shut. “Okay, Stiles. How are you feeling today?” 

Stiles stands at the door for a second. He feels warm all over, as if Derek hadn’t just taken the pain in his neck but _everywhere_. “You know what?” he says softly, feeling his mouth stretch into something that’s become unfamiliar. A smile. “I think today is going to be a good day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is forced to participate in a "play-mating" session with an orderly, which involves him being gripped by the neck and having his face shoved into the orderly's erection to try and force him into a state of arousal. 
> 
> NEXT UP: Derek and Stiles reunite and begin to plan their escape.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally planned to be way longer with way more plot, but then it got out-of-control long so I cut it where it is. Hopefully that means I can get the next chapter up very soon--maybe tomorrow; possibly the next day.  
> Trigger warning in the end notes.

Breaking Stiles out is going to be more difficult than Derek had thought, seeing as they can barely find a way to communicate. With cameras in the common areas, bedrooms, and halls, there’s nowhere for them to have a private conversation. Jennifer told him that the omegas are subject to random spot-checks of their rooms and possessions, so he doesn’t even dare give Stiles a note. He has to settle for quick whispers as he leads Stiles down the halls. 

His third day on the job he gets a shift watching the cameras, so he can have a better sense of the surveillance in this place. It’s not good. The only blind spots are in the private offices, and those are occupied during the day and automatically lock at night. 

It’s almost a week before they get a break. Derek has been ferrying the omegas to and from Morrell’s office— a job he tries to get every day, since he doesn’t have to hurt them, and it puts him close to Stiles. When the omega before Stiles finishes her session, Morrell pops her head out. “Miguel, I’m not feeling very well. Stiles is supposed to be my last patient of the day, but I’m just not up to it. I’m going to head home.” 

She does look pretty bad, and Derek tries to look sympathetic. “No problem.” 

Morrell smiles wanly. “Jennifer will kill me if she knows, so I’m going to sneak out the back way. You mind keeping it quiet?” 

“Not at all. Feel better.” 

“Thanks.” Morrell disappears back into her office and brings out the omega. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Erica.” 

Derek tries not to smiles as he leads Erica back to the common room. 

# 

Stiles has never hated the cameras more than he does after Derek comes. To have him so close but be unable to actually _be_ with him is unbearable. 

He wants to tell Derek about the Argents, and the baby. He wants to ask about his dad and Scott. He wants to know the plan, so he can help actually make it possible. 

But even despite the inability to really communicate, Stiles feels good. Jittery and hopeful. It’s a feeling that has nearly swept through the whole place. Kira had recognized Derek, and when she asked Stiles if that was really Derek Hale he’d shaken his head infinitesimally. “Pretend you don’t know him,” he’d whispered. “He’s here to help us.” 

Her eyes lit up. “Seriously?” 

“Seriously.” 

She’d managed to make sure anyone else who recognized Derek kept it quiet, and by now almost every omega in the building knows that _something_ is going on, even if they don’t understand the specifics. 

He waits in the common room for Derek to come get him and take him to Morrell. The moments before therapy are now his favorite part of the day and he keeps looking over his shoulder to see if it’s time yet. 

Finally Derek brings in Erica and curls his finger to Stiles. Stiles jumps up, trying not to look too eager, and lets Derek put a guiding hand on the small of his back. This is usually when Derek whispers something in his ear, but today he’s silent as he leads Stiles down the hall. He hasn’t said a word by the time they reach Morrell’s office and Stiles feels his stomach sink in disappointment. 

Nobody answers after the knock. Derek waits a second, then opens the door and prods Stiles inside. Stiles goes to the couch automatically, then stops and looks back at Derek. “Where’s Morrell?” 

Derek shuts the door. “She went home early. 

Stiles breaks the sound barrier. 

Even six months pregnant he manages to practically leap into Derek’s arms. Derek catches him, grinning, and promptly buries his nose in Stiles’s neck. “Oh my God,” he mumbles. “I missed you. I missed you so much.” 

“I know.” Stiles nuzzles in. He feels so _safe_. He hasn’t felt that way in forever; hasn’t even realized he missed it until right now. “I thought you were dead.” 

“Just hiding. Compared to what you were going through I was practically on vacation.” Derek pulls away and looks down at the purpled bruises on Stiles’s neck; his thin cheeks and shadowed eyes. “What did they do to you?” he asks softly, as if he isn’t sure he wants to know. 

A part of Stiles wants to pour it all out, cry and be comforted, but what would be the point? Derek doesn’t need to hear every threat and unwanted touch. He definitely doesn’t need to know how close Stiles came to giving up. “Nothing you can’t undo,” he says instead. 

Derek looks doubtful, but his hand bumps against Stiles’s belly and distracts him. “How did this happen?” he asks. “You were on your pills...” 

“The OSS switched me off without telling me.” 

“And are you…are you okay with it? I know it’s put you through a lot, and it has to be complicated for you...” Derek grimaces, hand unconsciously caressing the bump. “Do you…do you _want_ it?” 

Stiles puts his hand over Derek’s. “It’s a boy,” he says thickly, swallowing past a sudden lump in his throat. “The doctor says he’s going to be perfect. Most omegas going through pregnancy without their alphas have low-birthweight babies, but our son is just the right size. Strong heartbeat too.” 

Derek’s fingers close into a fist as if he could catch the baby’s hand and hold it tight. “Yeah?” 

Stiles nods. The lump grows until he almost can’t speak. “I love him,” he manages to say. “I know we were going to do this when we were older and ready for it, but that doesn’t matter now. Not to me.” 

Derek closes his eyes in relief. “I’m glad you said that. Because I feel the same way.” 

“Really?” 

“He’s pack,” Derek says simply. 

Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever loved Derek more than right now. “Hey, how come he gets to be pack before he’s even born? What the heck do I have to do to get that status? Does he at least get a plus-one?” 

Derek laughs at him. “Of course you’re a part of the pack, Stiles. It’s _our_ pack now. Has been for a long time.” 

Well, that does it. Stiles’s eyes overflow. “You could have told me before I went and slept with the alpha to try and earn my way in.” 

Derek’s thumb brushes against Stiles’s cheekbone. He’s so used to touches being used as a weapon that he nearly flinches away and Derek notices, removing his hand and watching Stiles carefully for a reaction when he puts his arms around him again. “I’m sorry. I thought all the _I love you’s_ and _let’s be together forever’s_ made the point pretty clearly.” 

“A human, a baby, and a single werewolf. Boy, we could conquer the whole world with a pack like that.” 

“We’re going to set our first goal just a little smaller.” Derek goes for the bump again, then pauses and looks at Stiles. “Can I…?” 

“Yeah.” 

Derek rubs it, brow furrowed as he listens to the heartbeat. “Is he kicking yet?” 

“Not yet. But I talk to him in my head. I nicknamed him Lucky.” 

“ _Lucky?_ ” 

“After the dog I never had.” 

“Okay,” Derek says, unsuccessfully hiding a grin. “We’ll be talking about that later. Is he a werewolf?” 

“I don’t know. But— they want to give him to the Argents.” 

Derek’s eyes practically turn black. “No _fucking_ way.” 

“I don’t think they know he might be a werewolf. They just want him to hold over my dad’s head. But if they figure it out— ” 

“They’re never going to set eyes on him,” Derek promises. “We’ll be long gone by the time he’s ready to come out. Scott’s a couple of miles away. I’ve been trying to figure out the best way out of here. We were thinking maybe faking some kind of medical emergency for you, so they would have to take you to a major hospital, but from what I can tell the staff doctor handles just about everything.” 

Stiles nods. “Besides, that would only get me out. And we have to rescue everyone.” 

Derek blinks at him. “As in, every omega here?” 

“Yeah. We’re not leaving one person behind, Derek. They’re my friends.” 

Derek sighs, but doesn’t argue. “Okay. Well, that complicates things. Any chance you’ve all been secretly training each other in martial arts and can help fight your way out?” 

“I wouldn’t count on that.” 

“We’re going to need multiple cars,” Derek mutters to himself. “No chance we can all make it on foot. But there’s no way to get past the gate. No car would be strong enough to smash through. We could take hostages to force them to open up, but we don’t have the manpower for that…maybe at night, when there are fewer orderlies on duty…” 

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut to think for a second. “Delivery trucks,” he says slowly. “The ones that bring in food and medical supplies and stuff. Would one of those be strong enough to smash the gates?” 

Derek’s eyes light up. “Yeah. Yeah, I think it would be. And the hold would be big enough to store every omega in this place.” 

“I don’t know how often they come in. And we’d still have to fight our way into the truck—” 

“We can cause some kind of diversion. And we’ll make sure Scott is the one driving the truck in, so he can help us. It could work. If we plan it just right, we could do it.” Derek thinks it over for another second, then nods. “I’ll figure out the supply truck schedule and we’ll go from there.” 

“And after we get out? Where will we go?” 

“I don’t know yet. Your friend Danny got me a fake ID; maybe he can make more for us.” 

“You met Danny?” 

“Yeah. He seemed…cool.” 

“Aww. My little Derek is making friends!” Stiles stands on his tiptoes to kiss Derek without even thinking. It sends a shot of warmth through his body and he freezes instantly. It’s been five months since he’s seen Derek, let alone kissed him. He should have at least asked. “Sorry,” he whispers. 

Derek tips up his chin and kisses him back. “There,” he says. “We’re even.” 

Stiles puts his hands over his lips, eyes wide, and Derek winces. “Shit. Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t think— after what they’ve done you probably don’t…” 

“No,” Stiles says softly. “That felt good. _Really_ good.” 

Derek watches him careful. “Are you sure? I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” 

“I’m sure.” He picks up Derek’s hand, puts it on his cheek, and nuzzles into it, just to confirm. Even though a tiny, abused part of his brain whimpers that this is an alpha and alpha means pain, a stronger part of him knows that’s not true. This is _Derek_ , and he is safe here. 

They don’t get to take this from him. He wants to be touched. He deserves good touches. 

“Just never grab me by the neck.” 

“I will never grab you by the neck,” Derek promises. He brushes his thumb over Stiles’s cheekbone again, and this time it’s okay. Stiles feels warmth blooming out from his chest and flowing all the way through him. Derek keeps the careful touches up, leaning in to press a kiss on the corner of Stiles’s mouth. “Okay?” he asks. 

Stiles sighs and tips his head back. God, he missed this. He’s missed this so much. “Very, very, _very_ okay,” he mumbles, knowing his heartrate can confirm. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” Derek looks surprised. “I can’t believe I haven’t said that yet. It was going to be the first thing I said when I saw you again.” 

“Well, actions speak louder than words. I already knew.” Stiles feels soft all over. Whoops. Not quite _all_ over. “How much more time do we have?” 

“Not enough to do any of the things you’re thinking about.” Derek looks regretful. “It’s going to be hard to steal time like this again.” 

“What about the bathrooms? There aren’t any cameras in there. I could go in every morning on the way to breakfast and then you could come in after me. Even if just for a few minutes…” 

“We can do that. We’ll just have to be listening for anyone trying to come in.” 

“Okay.” Stiles closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to go back out to the real world. “Kiss me again.” 

“Where?” Derek kisses the underside of his jaw. “Here?” 

“That’s…not what I had in mind.” 

“My mistake.” He moves downwards, pushing Stiles’s overly-large shirt off his shoulder so he can kiss all down his neck and collarbone. “Here?” 

“Not quite.” 

Derek kisses behind his ear. “Here?” 

“Maybe I should draw you a map.” 

“No, I have a great sense of direction. Werewolf thing.” Derek drops to his knees and rucks the shirt up so he can kiss Stiles’s belly. “Hmm,” he mumbles. “I like it here.” 

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind you moving that mouth southward…” 

“Save it for life on the outside, baby.” Stiles shivers at the endearment and the hunger in Derek’s voice, and Derek gives his belly one more kiss before standing, wrapping Stiles in a hug, and kissing Stiles on the lips until he can’t feel his toes anymore. “There,” Derek says when he’s finished. 

“There,” Stiles agrees. He closes his eyes, filling his lungs with deep breaths the way he used to do when he would escape to the woods. Fresh air. Freedom. _Hope._

Derek kisses the top of his head, then pulls away reluctantly. “We have to go back out now. We’ve already stayed too long.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’ll get my hands on the delivery schedule as soon as possible. But Stiles— if something goes wrong, and we run out of time, I’m getting you out first. We can plan some mass jailbreak later, if we have to, but I’m not sacrificing you for the others. Okay?” 

“It won’t come to that.” 

“I hope not.” Derek pulls his shirt back over his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning in the bathroom.” 

“That’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

Derek snorts and leads him back outside. Stiles struggles for a blank, obedient expression on his face so the cameras won’t know a thing. 

# 

It takes Derek a while to figure out the delivery schedule without arousing suspicion. The truck that delivers the mass-produced medications and vitamins for the omegas comes in once a month in the evening, and that seems like their best bet. It means waiting, and risking exposure, but they just don’t have the numbers to try and escape during the day. 

They sketch out the plan slowly. Scott will study the truck’s route. Once it gets on one of the back road he’s going to intercept it, overpower the driver, and hijack it. Since there’s no one set deliveryman the guards at the gate should let him through no problem. 

They have a close call a week after their meeting in Morrell’s office. Kate Argent comes to see an ultrasound of the baby and Derek has to fake illness so he can hide in the bathroom until she’s gone. Stiles lays in the examination room as she runs her hands over his belly. “Kick for me,” she coos to the baby, but nothing happens. When Haigh puts the ultrasound wand over his stomach he can’t get a clear picture. Lucky refuses to be cooperative, and Stiles couldn’t more pleased. 

That night he’s telling Lucky how proud he is when he feels the softest nudge in his belly. It’s tentative, like the baby is just trying out his surroundings. “Hey,” Stiles whispers in delight. “Glad to see you’re finally joining the party, buddy.” 

The flutters keep coming, stronger and stronger, as if Lucky is having the time of his life in there. Stiles grins, hoping the baby will be just as active in the morning. He wants Derek to feel. 

A few days later Derek has to take him back to the examination room. “The Argents want pictures of their baby,” Haigh explains curtly as he squirts gel on Stiles’s belly. “Let’s see if it’s more cooperative today.” 

He takes a moment to try and find the picture. “There we go,” he says in satisfaction. “Beautiful.” 

Derek leans forward hungrily in the corner of the room, staring at the monitor. Stiles tries to look too but Haigh pointedly turns it away. “You really don’t learn, do you?” 

“I just want to see.” 

“You have no right to that.” Haigh prints out a picture and holds it out to Derek. “Take this to my office, please.” 

Derek looks down at it. “No problem,” he says softly. 

The very next day Derek has to take him right back to Haigh, who is in a terrible mood. “We need to get another picture,” he snaps before Stiles can even ask. “Somehow yesterday’s got misplaced.” 

In the corner, Derek smirks. 

# 

Stiles tries to mentally prepare himself for his next sexual therapy session with Harris. He doesn’t want Derek to know it’s happening, since there’s nothing he can do to stop it, but it’s going to be hell for him to go through it with Derek so close by. 

But the next time he’s led to Jennifer’s office, Harris isn’t in there with her. Derek is. 

“Stiles,” Jennifer says. “I thought maybe we would have better results with another alpha. On your knees.” 

Stiles sinks down without arguing. Derek is expressionless, wearing the same black gloves Harris wears. Stiles can’t decide if this is better or worse than having Harris. He knows Derek will try to be as gentle as possible, but this is going to hurt them both. 

“Okay, Miguel. Let’s start with a few minutes of the control hold.” 

Derek clears his throat. “Actually, Jennifer…I think there’s another approach that would work for this omega.” 

Stiles winces, practically able to feel Jennifer’s disbelief. “Excuse me?” 

“A technique we used in Oklahoma. Omegas like this aren’t responsive to force. Think about how he ended up here. Some alpha exploited his weakness— his neediness for kindness and softness and _love_. He needs to be seduced.” 

Jennifer snorts. “Seduced?” 

“That’s right.” Derek drops down to his knees and puts a careful arm around Stiles’s chest. “You see, the forced control holds and scent immersion will eventually release dopamine and serotonin, but you’re missing one hormone. Oxytocin. That’s what forges bonds— so if you want to break the bond between this omega and the alpha who impregnated him, that’s what you need to release with another alpha.” 

Jennifer is still doubtful. “So, what? You just want to cuddle him until he’s begging for more?” 

“Essentially, yes.” Derek tugs Stiles snug against his chest, one arm still carefully restraining him over his chest. Stiles gets the hint and pretends to struggle for a few seconds. “Shh,” Derek murmurs. 

“This won’t form a bond between you, will it?” 

“Oh, no. We won’t go that far.” Derek strokes Stiles’s hair as Stiles lets his struggles die down. “See? It’s already working.” 

Jennifer bends so she can look Stiles in the eye. “Is that true, Stiles? Are you going to be a good boy for him?” 

Stiles drops his gaze to the ground. Derek just keeps holding him, breath warm against his neck. When Stiles closes his eyes, it’s almost like Jennifer isn’t even there. Eventually Derek gives him a soft kiss on the cheek and Stiles sighs, leaning into the touch. 

“Damn,” Jennifer mutters, sounding impressed. “This is the first time I’ve actually seen him act like an omega.” 

“Like I said. It’s the perfect technique for omegas like this.” Derek rubs a hand over Stiles’s belly, where Lucky is currently drumming his feet happily as though he can feel the contentment flowing through Stiles. “Now, for all future sessions, you’ll want to use me instead of any of the other orderlies. Doing this with more than one person would only confuse his senses and ruin him for any other alphas.” 

“Just so long as you two don’t bond.” 

Derek chuckles. “I’m taken. Don’t worry, this will only relax him, destroy the old bond, and make him ready to be claimed by another alpha. I know what I’m doing.” 

Jennifer keeps studying Stiles. He tries to make his expression as doped-up as possible, just a pleasure-hungry, brain-dead omega. If it was anyone other than Derek holding him he’d be fighting to get away, but this is the man he loves, and being held is exactly what he needs. Jennifer is clearly pleased. “I’ll have to have you train the others in this technique.” 

“I’m happy to do it for all the omegas in sexual therapy. But in the future…it might be best if you weren’t in the room. Two alphas in a small space; it’s just an unnecessary complication.” 

“Well, we’ll see about that. But really— this is amazing.” Jennifer grabs Stiles by the face, turning his head roughly. “Not so tough now, are you?” 

“Jennifer,” Derek mutters disapprovingly. “Don’t disrupt the process.” 

Jennifer holds up her hands in surrender and backs away. Stiles closes his eyes again, nearly drifting off in Derek’s arms. The minutes melt by and Stiles actually hears himself make a soft sound of displeasure when Jennifer tells them time is up. 

“I’ll walk him back to his room,” Derek says as he lifts Stiles to his feet. “He’s a little out of it at the moment.” 

Once they’re away from Jennifer Derek leans in. “Are you okay?” he whispers. “That was the only thing I could think to do. I wasn’t even sure if she would buy it.” 

Stiles nods. “I’m okay,” he whispers back. If Jennifer thinks she’s winning things will hopefully be easier for him. “Are you going to do that for all the omegas? Because I’m pretty sure it’s going to be bullshit for anyone but me.” 

“Yeah, but your friends are smart. Hopefully they’ll play along. Try and talk to them before their next appointments so they know what’s going on.” They reach Stiles’s room. “Love you,” Derek whispers, before turning and walking away without a backward glance. 

# 

As far as the professionals at Eichen are concerned, every omega in sexual therapy is making improvements in leaps and bounds. Jennifer reluctantly agrees to let Derek lead the sessions privately, watching each one for a few minutes before leaving and returning a half-hour later to find the blissed-out omega docilely laying in Derek’s embrace. 

During one of their meetings in the bathroom Derek tells Stiles what he actually does with the omegas during those sessions. Boyd just likes to sit in silence. Erica likes to crack jokes back and forth, the raunchier the better. Derek gets a book of Sudoku puzzles for Kira and prints out parenting tips for Isaac to read. At the end of the session the omega just crawls into Derek’s arms and adopts an expression of empty obedience. 

They’re all giddy with this quiet, secret rebellion. They’re stronger by the day and Stiles has a feeling that when the time comes to get out they’ll be more than ready to help. 

Some are too far gone, of course, already broken beyond any repair Derek or Stiles is equipped to handle. A few disappear, mated off to people of Jennifer’s choosing. Stiles mourns each one like a death. 

They start to plan a diversion for the night of the escape. Erica suggests Derek smuggle in firecrackers or something but Derek thinks they should go subtler. Kira comes up with flooding one of the bathrooms and they all like that idea. Derek says once the delivery date is scheduled he’ll get himself on the camera shift so Stiles can sneak into the bathroom and flood it without being seen. 

Then it all goes to hell. 

The day after the delivery date is put on the schedule, Jennifer decides that Stiles’s sessions with Derek are good, but what he really needs is to go through a heat to eradicate the bond with his former alpha. She schedules it to begin the day of the delivery, and end the day after it. 

“Get her to reschedule,” Stiles says desperately when Derek tells him. They can’t wait any longer. 

“I can’t.” Derek looks grim. “She already modified your pills to start the hormone changes. She only told me in advance because I’m going to need to be here for twenty-four hours straight to get you through it.” 

“We can’t just make a break for it anyway?” 

“Not when you’re in heat. I’m going to have to be with you the entire time, and you won’t be in any shape to help, let alone run.” 

“We can’t go a whole other month. We’re one mistake away from being completely fucked.” 

“I know.” Derek pounds his fist against the wall of the bathroom in frustration. “We’re going to have to pick another delivery. We may just have to cut our losses and go with one during the day. It’ll be riskier, but…” 

“What if we sabotaged the medicine supply here? Make them bring another shipment early?” 

“Maybe.” The bathroom door creaks and Stiles darts into a stall while Derek turns on the faucets to wash his hands. An orderly walks in, nodding to Derek. It would be too suspicious for Derek to stay in the bathroom until the orderly leaves so he dries off his hands and walks out silently. 

This _sucks_. These hurried, dangerous meetings; Jennifer foiling them without even knowing it. Stiles is so ready to be done with this. He just wants to have Derek and his baby and be safe. It shouldn’t be too much to ask. That should never be too much for anyone to ask. 

And he’s scared at the thought of going into heat. Even if he’ll have Derek with him, this is going to be much stronger than the last time. He won’t be in control. He’ll be weak, a mindless collection of hormones and need. 

He’ll be everything Jennifer says he is. 

And so when he starts to feel it a few days later— a non-Lucky fluttering in his belly and sticky warmth between his legs— his first instinct is to vomit all over himself. Isaac jumps out of bed and pounds on the doors, calling for help, but someone must be watching on the cameras because orderlies come within minutes. 

He’s cleaned up by perfunctory hands and carried to a tiny, dark room he’s never been in before. Jennifer and Derek are waiting. “Good morning, omega,” Jennifer says. “I’ve decided to be generous and schedule a heat for you.” 

Stiles whimpers. He can smell Derek and some primal part of his brain screams at Jennifer to leave them alone. Derek is clearly holding his breath, not wanting to give their bond away to Jennifer. 

“You’re going to spend this heat with Miguel, so that nice alpha smell can envelope you the whole time. He’s not going to give you want you want, but you are going to get what you need from him. By the end of this, your bond with your mystery alpha will be finished. Then maybe we can get you mated off just as soon as your bastard is out of your belly.” Jennifer turns to Derek. “Don’t you dare fuck him,” she says softly. 

“I won’t.” 

“I trust you, but spending a full heat like this won’t be easy for you. Just signal if you need out. There’s a camera right up there.” It’s clearly a warning to Derek, to make sure he doesn’t break the rules, and Derek only nods. 

“I’ve done this before,” he says simply. “You don’t have to worry.” 

“I know. But just to make sure…” Jennifer pulls something out of her pocket and advances on Stiles. She tugs down his pants without warning. “Hold him,” she orders Derek, and Derek grabs him reluctantly. Stiles watches in stunned horror as Jennifer forces his half-hard dick into a cold metal chastity cage. “There,” she says, slipping the key into her pocket. “ 

“You can’t keep him in that for a full day,” Derek says. There’s a furious growl running just under his voice. “What if he has to piss?” 

“He can still do that, it just won’t be particularly comfortable for him. This is standard for controlled heats; I’m surprised you’re not used to it. You need anything else from me?” 

“No,” Derek says coldly. “I think we’re good.” 

She nods and finally, finally leaves. Stiles is shaking. “It’s okay,” Derek says immediately. “I’m right here.” He lifts Stiles over to the cot nailed into the wall. “It’s just twenty-four hours, baby. You can do this.” 

“I need…I need you— ” Stiles tries to grab Derek’s hand and force it between his legs, right where the ache is greatest. 

“I can’t.” Derek fights against him. “Baby, I _can’t_. It’ll just be worse for you, since you can’t come. She doesn’t even realize how hard this is going to be since we’re already bonded, but we have to get through it. Trust me, I’m feeling it just as much as you are. We’re stronger than this. Right? We’re not going to let some stupid hormones fuck everything up.” 

Stiles breaths through his mouth until the haze in his brain has cleared a little. “No fucking up,” he agrees hoarsely. “No fucking at all.” 

“Here.” Derek gives him a bottle of water. “Keep your strength up. We’ll just talk, okay? About something boring. All they need to see in the camera is that I’m holding you, so we’ll just lay like this, and breathe through our mouths, and we’ll be fine.” He bites the last word off in a growl. “Shit, _fuck_ , okay, something boring. Something sexless. Something…” 

Stiles can barely think. “My dad. My dad is an unsexy topic.” 

“Yes! Your dad. Okay.” Derek groans. “Good teamwork.” 

They spend almost an hour on Stiles’s dad before taking a cracker break. The heat is building and Stiles finds himself rutting against Derek unconsciously. The werewolf has to dig his claws into his thigh until the pain makes him soft. They move on to Deucalion— Derek had already told him that he was the one behind the early mating attempt, and now John is trying to find enough evidence to arrest him for attacking Scott. Doing that would out him as a werewolf, and hopefully end any chance of him finding some way to snatch Stiles. 

The effort of fighting the heat is exhausting and Stiles gets a nap in for about an hour. When he wakes up he feels funny, as though he’s torn between giddiness and melancholy. He can’t decide if he wants to laugh or cry. His hormones must be completely out of whack. “Promise me the next heat will be better than this,” he whispers. 

“The next heat will be perfect. Except we’ll have a baby in the house, so we can’t exactly abandon him for a twenty-four-hour fuckfest.” 

Lucky is quiet now, probably sleeping, and Stiles rubs his hand over his stomach. “Are we going to be good dads?” 

“Of course we are. I’ve been reading parenting books. They all have plenty of sexist bullshit, but I’ve learned some stuff.” 

“Like?” 

“Probably things you learned in fifth grade. Tummy time, safe sleeping, when to start solids…” 

“I just want to hold him,” Stiles says, feeling tears spring to his eyes. “Sometimes I have dreams where I wake up and he’s gone, and I can’t find him anywhere. Or sometimes I do find him, but he’s all grown up, and he doesn’t recognize me. I’m still so scared they’re going to take him away.” 

“Nobody’s taking him away. He’s ours.” Derek puts his hand on Stiles’s belly too, rubbing a protective circle. “He knows it, too. He knows both our voices now. I think he is a werewolf, and that means he already knows who his family is. We’re all bonded, all three of us. Nobody is ever taking our son. Nobody is breaking up our pack again.” 

His voice is fierce and it cools the panic in Stiles’s chest at the thought of his son being taken. “Keep him safe,” he whispers. 

“I will. _We_ will. You’re going to be right there with me, Stiles.” Derek chances a kiss on the back of Stiles’s neck. “I love you. I love you and Lucky more than anything.” 

Stiles smiles. “Aww, you called him Lucky.” 

“And regretted it immediately.” 

“Maybe we should just name him that.” 

Derek almost chokes. “No way. Keeping him safe also means keeping him safe from stupid names.” 

“What about Luke?” 

“Luke is okay.” 

“Lars?” 

“Go back to Luke.” 

“Leo?” 

“Leo means lion.” 

“So?” 

“So we’re not naming a half-werewolf after a giant cat!” 

“But lions are the kings of the jungle!” 

“I could take a lion,” Derek mutters, affronted. 

“I think it’s perfect. We’ll have his middle name be Fox or something. Give him the power of every animal out there.” 

Derek snorts. “I can’t imagine a worse name for a baby werewolf than a name that essentially means _cat_.” 

Stiles grins, feeling the giddiness take over. “Hunter,” he says. 

“What?” 

Stiles starts to giggle hysterically, shaking in Derek’s embrace. “We…could name…our werewolf baby… _Hunter_.” 

“Oh, good. You’ve gone crazy.” 

“I believe I have what’s clinically known as _dick deprivation_.” 

“God, you’re gross. We’re tabling this decision until you’re sane.” Derek wraps his arms a little tighter around Stiles and changes the subject to Scott, how he’s getting better and better at tracking and if something goes wrong he should be able to help lead the omegas through the woods. 

But the baby is Leo from that point on. 

# 

Hours later Stiles slips into a sort of trance, like he’s floating above everything. “Derek?” he says softly. “Are you awake?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Promise me that if it ever comes down to me and the baby…you’ll choose him. Even if it means leaving me behind. You’ll keep him safe first.” 

“Stiles…” 

“Please. I can handle a lot, but I couldn’t handle knowing that he’s all alone out there without you. He needs at least one of us, so just…promise.” 

Derek sighs. “I promise,” he says quietly. 

“Thank you.” 

“But it won’t ever come down to that. We’re getting out of here. We’re going to find a safe place for him, you, and me. And if we can’t find it, we’ll make it. We’re going to be okay, Stiles. I love you.” 

“I love you,” Stiles repeats. He closes his eyes and breathes in and out, until Derek’s scent overwhelms him and his brain just shuts off. Until he only feels safe and warm and loved, as if that is all he has ever known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Stiles is forced into a heat by Jennifer. He spends it with Derek, but to make sure he doesn't bond Jennifer forces him into a chastity cage for the entire heat without his permission.  
> NEXT UP: An early labor forces some characters to make drastic decisions.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The yin to the last chapter's yang. Which is to say...don't forget about the trigger warning in the end note.

Eventually the intensity of the heat fades enough that Stiles is able to find real sleep, as thick and comforting as Derek’s arms around him. He doesn’t wake up until the door slams open the next morning. “Rise and shine,” Jennifer says. 

Stiles squints into the light. He feels a little shaky, but the ache in his lower belly and weight in his balls is gone. Jennifer laughs at the sight of them cuddled together. “Isn’t this cozy.” 

Derek lets him go and sits up. “Are we done here?” he asks gruffly. 

“Yeah. Guess you got it through it okay. I was watching some. You sure have an…interesting technique, Miguel.” 

Derek’s voice is cold. “It was effective.” 

“We’ll see about that.” Jennifer bends to Stiles. “How you doing, sweetie?” 

He swallows hard, desperately wanting the chastity cage off. “I’m okay.” 

“Stiles, when you first came here, I asked you a question. Do you remember what it was?” 

He shakes his head. 

“I asked who it was that got you pregnant. You haven’t be able to answer me yet. But after your nice long experience with Miguel, I think maybe that bond is broken and you don’t have to feel attached anymore. Am I right? Are you able to answer me now?” 

Derek puts a hand on his shoulder. “Go on, Stiles,” he says softly. “Tell her.” 

Stiles nods, takes a deep breath, and raises his eyes to Jennifer’s. “Kate Argent,” he says quietly. “Kate Argent is the baby’s alpha parent.” 

For the first time he’s known her, Jennifer looks completely shocked. “What?” 

“I didn’t know that I was in heat, but I think she could tell. She said she was trying to get a contract, but other people were bidding for me too. If the two of us were bonded maybe she could get me that way.” Stiles shudders. “I was waiting and waiting for her to come back for me, or find a way to get me out of here, but when I saw her in that examination room I knew— this was what she wanted, all along. She would take the baby and leave me here. She didn’t want me anymore. It wasn’t fair— I didn’t tell you her name, so she could still claim me when I was out of here, but all she wanted was to get me pregnant so she could take the baby and nobody would ever have to know what she’d done.” A single tear slips down his cheek. “But I still wanted her. Right up until this morning, I still wanted her to be my alpha forever.” 

Jennifer leans back on her heels. “Kate Argent,” she repeats. “Well. That’s… unexpected.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, ma’am. I didn’t want her to get in trouble.” 

“She broke the law,” Jennifer tells him. “You’re doing the right thing by telling me.” 

“Will she still get the baby?” Stiles asks hesitantly. 

“I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to my superiors.” Jennifer frowns. “This was very stupid of her. I have no patience for alphas who ruin omegas for their own gains. But I’m proud of you for telling me.” Her hand caresses his cheek. “You’re a good boy, Stiles,” she says, smiling at him like she’s giving him a gift. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says softly. 

“I think this can be a fresh start for you. How does that sound? We can put everything behind us now and start preparing you for your mating.” Jennifer looks at Derek. “I have to say, I had my doubts, but you’re a miracle worker, Miguel. Get him back to the others. If you hurry you’ll make it in time for breakfast.” 

Derek nods and pulls Stiles to his feet. “Nice job,” he mutters once they’re down the hall. 

“She bought it, right?” 

“Her heartrate jumped when you said Kate’s name, but I think that was just the surprise. With any luck we at least won’t have to worry about Kate coming up here for a while.” They reach the end of the hallway. “I’m off the rest of today and tomorrow’s day shift.” 

“Meet Friday morning in the bathroom?” 

“Yeah. Be safe while I’m gone.” Derek squeezes his arm. “Love you.” 

“Love you.” Stiles takes his seat at the table, hearing Derek’s footsteps recede. “Hey, guys.” 

He’s greeted with gloomy silence. 

“Whoa.” He looks around, automatically counting to make sure nobody is missing. “What happened?” 

Erica sighs. “They scheduled our C-sections. Me and Isaac.” 

Isaac stares at his plate with red-rimmed eyes. 

“When?” Stiles asks quietly. 

“Isaac’s is on Monday. Mine is next Thursday.” 

“They talked us through the procedure,” Isaac says. His voice is gritty, laced with a bitterness Stiles has never heard from him before. “We’ll be put under an hour before and be out for the entire day. By the time we wake up the babies will already be out of the building. The doctor will still put a screen up even though we’re unconscious, since the omega-child bond is such a powerful thing that the baby might accidentally imprint even just from seeing our faces.” 

“Oh, God. Isaac—” 

Isaac rounds on him furiously. “And we’ll be given injections immediately after the procedure to stop milk production. That would just an unnecessary reminder that the baby exists. Never mind that we might want a reminder. Or, you know, want the _baby_.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Erica says softly. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I’m the fucked-up omega who hasn’t been able to come to agree with the idea that I’m so very bad I don’t deserve to ever see my child.” Isaac kicks out his chair, making a horrible screeching noise against the floor. 

“Where are you going?” Stiles asks, trying to grab for his arm before the orderlies see him making a commotion. 

Isaac snatches his arm away. “I’m going to the bathroom, Stiles. You know, the place you hang out every morning?” 

“Keep your voice down.” 

“Why? Because it might ruin your great plan to get us out of here?” Isaac laughs hollowly. “That’s clearly working out so well.” 

# 

Isaac hasn’t returned by the time Stiles is taken to his therapy appointment. Jennifer is there, leaning into the office so she can talk to Morrell. “Stiles,” she says warmly when she sees him. “I was just telling the doctor about your announcement this morning. She’s proud of you, too.” 

Stiles squirms. He isn’t used to this nice Jennifer and it makes him nervous, like she might turn and snap. “Thank you.” 

“I’ve been very pleased with your behavior lately.” Jennifer’s tone sharpens. “I certainly hope it’s genuine.” 

“It is,” Stiles says softly. “I promise.” 

She smiles again and ruffles his hair. “Have a good session, sweetie.” 

“Who’s stopped pissing in her coffee?” Stiles asks Morrell once he’s safely inside. 

The doctor smiles wanly. “To be honest with you, I’m pretty sure she’s finally convinced the OSS to fire me. She’s been working on that for a while. I’ll probably be getting notice as soon as they find a replacement.” 

“Seriously?” Stiles isn’t putting Morrell on his Christmas list anytime soon, but he does kind of count her as an ally, and he’d be sorry to see her go. “That sucks.” 

“Mm. I’m thinking of working in the private sector from now on. Things are getting a bit stricter within the OSS, and—” Morrell shakes her head. “But that’s not important. Let’s talk about you. Kate Argent?” 

“Yep.” 

“Hm.” Morrell drums her fingers against the chair. “You know, it’s funny— you’ve mentioned the baby’s alpha parent a few times, and you’ve always used masculine pronouns.” 

Stiles shrugs. “All part of my master plan to throw you off the scent.” 

Morrell shakes her head. “I know you’re lying, Stiles. I hope you really do have some sort of plan because if Jennifer finds out…” 

“I always have a plan.” Lucky kicks and Stiles rubs his belly thoughtfully. “So…they scheduled Isaac’s C-section.” 

Morrell’s expression goes grave. “I heard.” 

“They’re not even going to let the baby see his face.” 

“No. They never do. There’s a bond that’s formed as soon as an omega holds its child and some believe that even seeing its omega parent can cause the child to imprint— essentially recognize and bond with its birth parent. There’s not much scientific evidence on that, but adoptive parents, which are hard enough for the OSS to find, are loath to take a child they believe has already bonded with another omega.” 

“So he’ll never even see it,” Stiles says quietly. 

“No. The records will be sealed. Isaac will be unable to learn its gender, name, or family, to ensure he’ll never be able to track it down. That’s the standard in most adoptions. In your case, the Argents agreed that you would know they were the adoptive family so they could monitor you through the pregnancy. They will, however, take out a restraining order that will prevent you from coming near the baby. It’s my job to prepare you emotionally so you don’t have any lingering parental feelings towards it.” 

Stiles laughs humorlessly. “Good luck with that.” 

“I know it’s hard.” 

“You really don’t.” Stiles sighs. He doesn’t want to fight. “So what if the OSS decides Kate can’t have my baby now?” 

“They’ll do their best to find another family. If not, there are still OSS-run orphanages to handle infants in these cases. Such children remain wards of the state for most of their lives. It’s not something you would want for your child.” 

“Why not just let me keep him? Isn’t that the OSS’s whole line, that I’m supposed to be raising children?” 

“With an alpha. Children need two parents, not one omega. And no alpha would take you in if you already had a baby. I’m sorry, Stiles. The OSS will never let you keep him.” 

“Whatever.” Stiles flops over onto the couch, sarcastically taking up a classic patient pose. “Let’s talk about my mom or my daddy issues or my childhood fears instead.” 

“You’re going to have to come to terms with this eventually, Stiles.” 

“Wanna bet?” he mutters, and sits in stony silence until she finally changes the subject. 

# 

Isaac apologizes for his outburst the next time Stiles sees him, but he acts strange. He begs the orderlies to bring him a bottle of hot sauce for every meal, claiming a late-term craving; paces constantly around the common room and courtyard; and does a bunch of jumping jacks once they’re returned to their room. At night Stiles hears him gasping and a steady, familiar _thwuck_ -ing sound. He’s masturbating. That’s absolutely forbidden and in the morning Stiles helps him hide the soiled pillowcase at the back of the dresser. “Dude,” he says. 

“Don’t start,” Isaac mutters. 

He keeps up the weird behavior for the rest of the day. When Stiles wakes up that night to soft moans above him, he assumes Isaac is just masturbating again, but they don’t stop, and eventually he realizes that he’s not hearing pleasure but pain. “Isaac? You okay?” 

He gets a whimper in response. 

“Are you cramping? Is it the baby?” 

There’s a long pause. Then: “Yeah. But…it’s okay. Just…” his voice chokes off. “I need help. It hurts worse than I thought…” 

Stiles panics. “Are you in labor?” 

“Yeah.” 

Everything clicks together. The spicy food, the exercise, the release of prostaglandins through orgasm— Isaac has been trying to induce labor. “Oh, goddamn it, Isaac. Goddamn it!” He crawls out of bed. “I’ll pound on the door and get help.” 

“No! Please, Stiles. They’ll stop it, or they’ll just put me under. I won’t even get to see it. Just…help me do this.” 

“You really think I can deliver a baby?” 

“We’ll work together,” Isaac says in a small voice. “Please, Stiles. I know you have a plan so hopefully they won’t be able to take yours away. But…this might be my only chance to hold my baby.” 

And really, how can Stiles argue with that? 

“Okay,” he says, and hops up on his own bed so he can look Isaac in the face. The omega is covered in sweat, tears already cutting tracks down his cheeks. This is going to be hell. “But I’m officially honorary godfather. And I don’t care if there’s no holiday for that, I’m getting a hell of a present each year anyway.” 

Isaac groans. “Whatever. Just help me.” 

“Get down from there.” 

He helps Isaac slide from the bed down to the floor. He grabs the pillows and blankets off the beds to make it a least a little comfortable, mind racing. He knows the basics, but he isn’t exactly trained in midwifery. “How fast are your contractions?” 

“I don’t know. Fast. Is there any tearing?” 

“Oh, God.” Stiles pulls off Isaac’s pants gingerly, not really wanting to look at his friend’s dick. There’s a reason most male omegas opt for surgical delivery— since there’s no ready-made exit door for the baby, male omegas have to either tear naturally or have an incision made in the perineum. It can cause severe bleeding if not handled correctly. “I don’t think so.” 

“You’re going to have to cut me.” 

“With what? The scalpel I always keep in my pants? Jesus, Isaac, this is never going to work!” 

He hears a beeping at the door and looks up in a panic to see Derek stepping through. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’m on cameras tonight. I saw you two out of bed.” Derek bends down. “What’s going on?” 

“Isaac’s in labor.” 

Derek blanches. “Okay. Dr. Haigh is on call. I’ll get you down to his office and he should be here within a half-hour.” 

“No! Please, no!” Isaac clings to Stiles. “Please don’t let them put me under. I don’t want to be asleep. I don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl. Please just let me see it and hold it. Don’t let them take my baby while I’m asleep.” He’s practically choking on his own hysteria. “Please!” 

Derek looks helplessly at Stiles. “Isaac, there’s nothing we can do. I can’t smuggle the two of you out of here once it’s born. There’s no way to stop them.” 

“I know. I’m not asking for that. I just want to hold my baby. _Please_.” 

Stiles and Derek communicate silently for a moment. This could be bad for them. Jennifer will be furious that Derek has done this, maybe even enough to fire him. It could throw off the entire plan. But Isaac is almost crushing Stiles’s hand, crying helplessly as he waits for them to decide if he gets to see his baby just once. He was the first friend Stiles made here. “Derek,” Stiles says softly. “Please.” 

Derek groans. “Fine. _Fine_. But I’m not promising that I can’t stop you from bleeding out. Stiles, help me move him into the corner where the cameras don’t cover, so nobody pops their head in the surveillance room and sees us.” 

“Thank you,” Isaac rasps as they carry him over to the corner. He groans as they put him down on the ground “You can be its honorary godfather.” 

“Oh, that’s gratitude for you,” Stiles mutters. He props Isaac’s legs up so Derek can see. “There’s no tearing yet, Der. Do you have, like, a knife or anything…?” 

Derek gives him a disgusted look and holds up one hand. His claws glitter in the moonlight. 

Isaac practically shrieks his head off. 

Stiles grabs his hand again. “It’s okay, Isaac! I guess you’ve never been introduced. This is Derek. He’s a werewolf, but he’s not what they say he is. He’s a good guy, I promise.” 

Isaac looks at him like he’s insane. “I don’t care that he’s a werewolf, Stiles, I care that he’s about to slice my taint open with a claw!” 

“Yeah, well, people who decide to have their babies in a locked dormitory at midnight don’t get to be picky.” Stiles looks askance at Derek. “Um, are you sure about this?” 

“No. But it’s the best chance we have. Isaac, I’m going to make the incision. I’ll try to take your pain, but there’s going to be a lot. Are you ready?” 

Isaac nods, eyes shut in preparation. Stiles grips his hand tightly. “Just squeeze if the pain gets to be too bad,” he says. 

“On three,” Derek says. “One.” He immediately pierces into Isaac’s skin, veins going black as he tries to take the pain. Isaac wails and crushes the bones in Stiles’s hand. “I thought you said on three!” 

“The anticipation is the worst part. Try not to push until the incision is done, all right?” 

Isaac nods. “It’s coming fast. _Really_ fast.” 

“I’m almost finished. Do you guys have any water in here?” 

Stiles shakes his head. “No food or drink allowed in the rooms.” 

“I hate this place,” Derek mutters. “Okay, Isaac. The incision is good. I’m just going to reach inside to make sure the baby has a clean way down, all right?” 

Stiles strokes back the hair on Isaac’s head as Derek works down below. Finally he lifts his head up. “All right. You can start pushing. I’ll try and take the pain of the contractions.” 

Isaac bears down, pulverizing Stiles’s bones again. Stiles looks away. He hasn’t really thought about his own labor, just tossed it on the _deal-with-it-later_ pile, but this is terrifying. 

It’s better than the alternative, though. He’ll take the pain. If it means he gets to hold his baby, he’ll take as much pain as the universe wants to throw at him. 

“I feel the head,” Derek says after what feels like a lifetime. “Come on, Isaac. You’re doing good. You can get it out with one more push.” 

Isaac chokes as he pushes, legs and arms shaking uncontrollably. Then his shoulders collapse in exhaustion and he falls silent, body going lax. The first wail of his baby sounds otherworldly in the sudden silence. 

Derek lifts it into the moonlight. “It’s a girl,” he says. “A beta.” 

Isaac reaches for her. The cord stretches and Derek grimaces. He grabs his nametag, pulling it off his lapel so he can use it to clamp off the cord. “Oh, my God,” Isaac sobs. He brushes at the blood on her face and Stiles scrambles for a pillowcase so he can wipe her clean. She cries as he wipes her off, little hands frantically furling against her face as if she desperately doesn’t like it here, but when Isaac cradles her against his chest she starts to settle. “Oh, my God,” he says again. “Look at you. My baby. It’s really you, oh my God.” 

Derek extends a claw to cut the cord. Isaac doesn’t pay attention, totally lost in his newborn’s face. Her eyes squint up at him, the color impossible to tell in this little light. Her foot thumps against his stomach and he laughs a little. “You always did like to do that,” he whispers. 

Stiles turns away. He feels like he shouldn’t be seeing this; like Isaac should have these few moments be as private as possible. Derek meets his gaze and they stare at each other, faces grave. Lucky is kicking too and Stiles swears his kicks are in time with Isaac’s baby. 

“She’s beautiful,” he tells Isaac, afraid he might cry. 

“Emma,” Isaac says. “Her name is Emma,” and Stiles watches her hand find Isaac’s finger and close so tightly he’s afraid they’ll have to peel her fingers free. Isaac kisses her and she makes a curious sound. Her head nuzzles against Isaac’s chest. 

“I love you,” he whispers to her. “Emma. I’ve loved you for so long.” He rocks her and she keeps making tiny sounds. Her eyes stay focused on her father’s face for a long time until they close in contentment. Isaac kisses her forehead, then her hand, smiling in wonder at her miniature fingers. “My perfect Emma,” he murmurs. “My girl.” 

Derek closes his eyes, looking pained. “Isaac,” he says softly. 

Isaac’s arms tighten. “No.” 

“I’m sorry. I have to take her. She needs to be looked at by a doctor, and so do you.” 

“No, no. I need more time.” Isaac shakes and Emma’s eyes open. She whimpers. 

“Derek,” Stiles begs. “Another couple of minutes.” 

“There isn’t any more time. The longer we wait the worse it is for us all.” 

“No, come on. Not yet.” Tears stream down Isaac’s face as the baby starts to wail. “Please, I can’t lose her now, she’s right here. She needs me. Please, Derek, I just need a little more time.” 

“I’m sorry.” Derek holds out his arms. “We can’t wait any longer.” 

Isaac won’t let go and Derek has to reach for her, looking like he hates himself. Isaac makes a terrible sound as the baby is lifted away. “No,” he wails. “Please don’t take her please don’t take her _please_.” 

Stiles cries silently, bending over his stomach, hands clamped there as if he could stop Lucky from hearing. 

“Emma,” Isaac sobs. “Emma. Don’t go. _Don’t take her_.” 

“You’ll see her again. I’ll do everything to make sure you can. But for right now, you have to say goodbye.” 

Isaac reaches for her one more time and Derek lets him pulls her close so he can kiss her cheek. “I love you, Emma. Oh, God. Don’t forget me. I love you, I love you.” 

Derek takes her back. Isaac looks up at him. “Don’t let her be cold,” he says, barely understandable through his tears. 

“I won’t.” Derek wraps her in a pillowcase. She won’t stop screaming, arms and legs pumping, blindly searching for Isaac. Derek opens the door with his keycard and carries her out and Isaac almost gags on his tears. Stiles holds him, shaking violently, as Isaac cries so loudly that Stiles can’t even hear Emma as she’s carried away. 

# 

Derek is in serious trouble. 

After he gives Isaac’s baby to Dr. Haigh he’s sent to wait in Jennifer’s office for what seems like hours. When she finally comes in she closes the door firmly, face stony. “I’d love to know what in the hell you were thinking.” 

Derek rattles off the story he’s rehearsed in his head. “I saw on the monitors that something was wrong. I went to check on them. The contractions were coming so fast that I was afraid the doctor wouldn’t get here in time. There was blood and I didn’t want to leave him.” 

“You’re lucky they didn’t both die.” 

“I’m trained in delivery. I had the situation under control.” 

“No, you damn well didn’t! You let them bond, Miguel! How the _fuck_ could you have been so stupid?” Jennifer’s fury overflows. “That omega was never supposed to set eyes on the baby. Not only did you let him see it, you let him _hold_ it? Did you completely lose your mind? We had a family for that baby, and now they’re refusing to take her! I just got off the phone with them and had to disclose what happened. Nobody wants a kid who already bonded with its omega parent!” 

“I’m sorry. I had to make a judgement call.” 

“You made the wrong one. You _really_ made the wrong one. That kid’s going into state care now. She’ll essentially grow up in an orphanage because you didn’t follow protocol. I should fire you for this. If it weren’t for all the good work you’ve done here, you’d be out on your ass.” She takes a breath. “As it is, you’re suspended. One week. Without pay.” 

His heart sinks. “I understand.” 

“The omega’s rehab is going to be much more difficult now, too. Won’t that be fun to deal with?” She scowls. “His roommate. What was his role in all of this?” 

“He held the omega’s hand, mostly. Cried some.” Derek’s heart beats painfully. 

“I bet he did,” she mutters. “All right. We’re done here. I have to call the Beacon Hills OSS branch so they can get people up here to take the baby. This is going to be so much fucking paperwork…” 

“I really am sorry. It won’t happen again.” Derek stands, hesitating at her desk. “If they ask,” he says, “Emma would be a nice name for her.” 

# 

After Emma is born everything hits rock bottom. Derek is gone. He’s ejected from the building before Stiles gets to see him, so he doesn’t know if he’s fired or suspended or what. He sinks to asking Morrell if she knows and she tells him, eyebrow raised suspiciously, that Derek will be gone for a week. 

Isaac is stone from the moment they wake up to the moment they go to bed. He stares deep into the woods as if he sees her out there, barely able to focus on anything that’s being said or done around him. They’d tried to stop his milk production almost as soon as they’d come and taken him from the room, but it still came a little too late after the birth, so they bind him up to stop the leaking. It must be ridiculously sore but Isaac still tries to irritate his breasts, squeezing through the binding until an orderly makes him stop. “So I can feed her when I get her back,” is all he says to Stiles. 

He isn’t punished for what happened, but Stiles walks on eggshells, afraid of Jennifer. Morrell had warned him that she’s pissed, and is looking for someone other than Derek to blame. When he’s finally called to her office two days after Emma’s birth his heartbeat stutters so violently that Lucky kicks in alarm. 

Jennifer waits behind her desk. “Sit,” she orders tersely, and Stiles sits, folding his hands demurely. “Let’s talk about what happened with Isaac.” 

“I didn’t know what to do,” Stiles tells her. “It all happened so fast, and the orderly said he might bleed out—” 

“Right. And you just sat there and held his hand and cried. I’ve heard it from Isaac and Miguel. But you know, I reviewed the video footage from your room. And you were the one talking to Miguel. _Convincing_ him. Am I wrong?” 

“It wasn’t like that.” 

“You’re lying. You’re always lying to me, Stiles.” Jennifer leans back in her chair. “I talked to Kate Argent,” she says coldly. “I wanted to let her know she wouldn’t be receiving the baby, and when I told her why she said I was crazy. She never touched you.” 

“She’s lying.” 

“She wasn’t even in Beacon Hills when you got pregnant, you little lying whore.” Jennifer’s voice drops to a poisonous whisper. “She was on vacation for the holidays. She showed me her checkbook. Anything to say to that?” 

Stiles is silent. 

“Very, very clever of you, manipulating me so she wouldn’t get the baby. Didn’t that backfire on you? Because now she knows that her baby’s birth parent isn’t only a slut, he’s a liar. And she’s going to work very hard to make sure the baby never grows up to be like you. Everything you do here, every mistake you make— your precious kid is the one who will end up getting the punishment.” 

Stiles stares at her, not even able to hide the hatred in his eyes. 

“You _disgust_ me, you know. Of all the omegas here, you’re the one who thinks he’s better than everyone else. What gives you that right? Look at you. You’re eighteen and pregnant. You’re not half as pretty as the other omegas. All you were to the alpha who fucked you was a wet _cunt_ , and you stupidly wear that like a badge of honor while simultaneously refusing to accept that’s your only attribute. I despise omegas like you. I’ll never—” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Your omega hated you so much she stabbed you and now you take it out on all of us. Boo-fucking-hoo.” 

The entire room freezes. Stiles sits, brain trying to catch up to his mouth. Oh _shit_ , that was so fucking stupid. It was like he just _snapped_ and the words came out automatically. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to say that, ma’am. I’m so sorry.” 

Jennifer stares at him. Something changes in her eyes, sinks to a bottomless black. “That’s right,” she says quietly. “My omega tried to kill me. I bet you were happy to hear that, weren’t you? I bet you just _love_ the thought of me bleeding out from an omega’s attack. Is she your hero, Stiles? Do you lie awake at night and imagine hurting me, too?” 

He shakes his head frantically, whispering that he’s sorry, trying desperately to find words in his defense after they’d just betrayed him so terribly. 

“You can’t hurt me, omega. You know that, don’t you? I’m bigger than you are. I’m stronger than you are. If you wanted to hurt me, you couldn’t get near me.” Jennifer stands and walks behind his chair. “But I could hurt you,” she says. 

The fear comes from instinct: there is an alpha here threatening him, and he is alone and defenseless. “Please,” he stammers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” 

“You’re just like her— unable to accept that I _own_ you. You’re a ward of the state, omega, until the day I gift you to an alpha. And let me promise you, I’m going to find someone able to handle you, who will chain you to the fucking bed rather than give you an inch to exercise your pitiful will.” One hand clamps on to his shoulder and the other grips his chin, roughly dragging his head to look at her. “But until then, you belong to me. And nobody cares about you. Nobody who matters gives a shit what I have to do to fix you.” 

She shoves him forward and drags him out of the chair. His knees skid against the carpet and she pulls him to kneel in front of her. She stares down at him, eyes still empty. “You will never be able to talk your way out of what you are,” she says. “You will never be anything more than an omega. Let’s see if I can finally get that message across.” 

The first blow is from the back of her hand, over his eye. He raises his hands to try and protect himself, but then she kicks him in the stomach, and he has to protect that first. “Oh, yeah,” Jennifer says. “You thought that belly kept you safe? It doesn’t.” She pulls away his hands and presses the tip of her boot into his stomach. “Should I keep punishing the baby, omega? Or should I punish you?” 

“Me, ma’am. Punish me.” 

“Why?” 

He hates her, hates that she’s making him beg to be beaten. “Because I deserve it.” 

“Yeah,” she says. “You really do.” 

She breaks his nose. 

She hurts him everywhere, avoiding his stomach but methodically covering everywhere else. He tries to be strong but he can’t. It feels like she is breaking him apart, shattering him beyond repair. He’s choking on his own blood. “ _Please please please_ ,” he sobs, curling into a ball when he can’t stay upright any more. 

“You still want to hurt me, omega?” 

He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to hurt her. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He just wants to go away, to be put somewhere dark where he can’t get himself into trouble. 

“You want me to stop?” 

“Yes!’ 

“Do you still deserve to be punished?” 

He doesn’t know the answer. 

“Are you a lying little whore, omega?” 

He nods. Yes. Yes, he’s a lying little whore, a lying little omega whore, he doesn’t care, he’ll say it, just _stop_. 

“Well, then. I think lying little whores need punishment.” She kicks him in the small of the back, then grabs his hair, the hair he’d grown out long because Derek liked it, and drags him over to the corner so she can slam his face into the wall. 

It hurts so much, so badly, that he doesn’t even realize when she’s stopped. He just lies in a heap, feeling each pain pulse. He feels kicking at his stomach and panics, thinking he’s done something wrong and she’s punishing the baby again, before he realizes it’s just Lucky. _Go to sleep_ , he thinks to the baby. _Don’t be here for this_. 

“Omega. Do you still deserved to be punished?” 

He can’t handle any more but he knows the right answer now, so he croaks yes, he deserves to be punished, for as long as she deems necessary. He even lifts up his head so she can keep hitting him. She puts her foot on his cheek and presses his face into the carpet. 

“Look at this. I’ve finally found a way to stomach you.” She sits on the ground and pulls his head into her lap. She strokes her fingers through his hair. After-abuse comfort. A technique to reinforce to the omega that punishment is just something the alpha has to do, because they care. He’s read all about it but he still finds himself burrowing into her arms, unable to distinguish for a moment between this alpha and the one he actually wants. 

“Tell me, Stiles. Is what I just did here wrong?” 

He shakes his head. 

“In fact, if I took you outside right now, I would be congratulated for how well I handled you. Do you understand that? Your daddy made you think that you could get away with whatever you wanted, but that’s not how the world works. Omegas are special. Most of them are sweet and obedient and deserve to be treasured. But they have to stay that way, or they get punished. Which one are you, Stiles? The one that deserves to be treasured, or punished?” 

“Punished, Alpha.” 

“Tell me what you are.” 

He sobs out the entire litany, every word he thinks she wants to hear. _Whore. Slut. Pitiful. Bitch. Pathetical. Liar._ He feels each word as though it’s being carved all the way down to his bones. She keeps stroking his hair, pressing into the tender spots, until he runs out of words and sputters the last one he can think of: _Omega_. 

“That’s right,” she says softly. “You can change every word but the last one. Stop hating what you are and just accept it, omega.” 

“Yes, Alpha.” 

She pulls him into her arms, against his chest. The cuddle hold Derek had pretended was therapy. “We’ll stay right here for a while. If you can keep that smart mouth under control, no more punishment today.” 

“Thank you, Alpha.” 

“But tomorrow— one slip-up and I’ll have to teach you this lesson again.” 

He nods again. He lays in her arms and thanks her for it, over and over, until she gently reminds him that omegas are supposed to be quiet and he obediently shuts his mouth. 

# 

When Derek comes back to Eichen after a week away it’s the first thing he sees. 

Stiles. 

So covered in bruises he doesn’t look human. 

A white strip of tape over his broken nose. 

Sitting like a doll wherever they put him, staring blankly out the window. 

Stiles. 

Derek feels himself crack. 

# 

Derek learns that Stiles is no longer having meetings with Morrell. 

His therapy is being handed entirely by Jennifer now. 

When he walks Stiles to the first appointment Jennifer sticks her head out and smiles, explaining to Derek that it would be inappropriate from him to continue Stiles’s sexual therapy. Clearly they’d become too close. “He’s better off with me, aren’t you, omega?” 

Stiles nods and steps into her waiting arms. 

Derek is told later that day that the orderlies aren’t supposed to use Stiles’s name anymore. _Omega_ will do. 

# 

Stiles doesn’t meet him in the bathroom for three days. 

He doesn’t answer when Derek tries to talk to him. 

The only response Derek gets is a pained sound when Derek tries to touch him, a whimper that sounds strangled, as if he knows better than to say no to an alpha. 

Derek snatches his hand away. He suddenly thinks of when his family died, how he tore through the woods howling, forgetting how to be human because the pain was all there was. 

# 

Stiles speaks to him for the first time on the fourth day, as Derek walks him to Jennifer’s office. _If you can’t get me out of here, let me die._

_Get me out of here_

It makes Derek think again of his family, how he’d come back to the house to find it burning and ran to each entrance desperately trying to get through. 

He couldn’t get them out, could only watch them burn. 

That’s what gives him the idea. 

He hates fire now, even the small flame of a candle, but he thinks of Eichen burning and feels a responding glow in his chest. The thoughts that have always haunted him, of his brothers and sisters choking on smoke, are replaced by the image of Jennifer gasping for air, trapped against the wall by fire, _burning._

He’d wanted to be cautious, make an airtight plan so they could get out of Eichen without bloodshed, but now he doesn’t care. Now bloodshed is a bonus. 

He would rather this place turn him into the monster the world wants him to be than turn Stiles into the omega the world wants him to be. 

# 

He finds the number for the medical supply and breaks into an office to call it. He tells them he’s from Eichen, rattles off the right numbers, and says the last supply had been contaminated by flooding. They need another delivery as soon as possible. 

The man on the other end tells him the soonest he can get it out is in three days. An eight o’clock delivery, since it will be an add-on to the route, but Derek tells him that’s not too late. It’s perfect. 

Derek gets himself on the schedule. He goes to a store in town and buys matches and kerosene. He tells Scott what to do and Scott just nods, face grave, understanding that this is what it has come to. 

# 

The day before it will happen he leans over Stiles, who is still sitting docilely on the couch like a good boy. 

_Tomorrow_ , he whispers. 

_When they send you to bed, don’t go to your rooms. Get all your friends and run to the very back of Eichen, where the trucks bring deliveries._

 _If anyone tries to stop you, fight them. Steal your forks at dinnertime. Aim for the eyes. Kill if you have to. Don’t be afraid or second-guess. Just do it._

 _

Run. Fight. Use everything you have. 

Because tomorrow, we are going to burn Eichen to the fucking ground.

_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: An omega gives birth and is almost immediately separated from his child against his will. Later a pregnant omega is seriously beaten, threatened and verbally abused by Jennifer.  
> NEXT UP: (I'll be away away for a few days, so it might not be till Thursday or Friday) The escape from Eichen.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for putting this up later than promised (should be the title of my autobiography).  
> This chapter brought to you by whiskey and author tears.  
> I'm pretty sure this chapter actually doesn't need a trigger warning, so there isn't one in the end notes. (If you read and disagree, let me know ASAP and I'll add whatever you think appropriate). Since it picks up after the last chapter Stiles is still in a pretty bad place, and there's some violence, sexism in keeping with the previous chapters, and implied/suggested character death. Again, shout out to me if you think I missed something potentially triggering, and hope you enjoy this monster chapter!

After beating the shit out of him Jennifer cuddles Stiles for over an hour, caressing him everywhere. He imagines her hands leave a trail behind her replacing Derek’s scent and claim, bleach-like. 

He hurts too much to walk so she carries him back to his room and tucks him into bed. He thanks her again for the beating and then for being kind and she smiles and strokes his cheek tenderly. Fucking textbook after-abuse care. He knows, but he still falls for it, because she’s right. He’s an omega. This is what omegas do. 

He doesn’t answer Isaac’s horrified whispered questions, just falls into a foggy sleep. He doesn’t have the usual nightmares about searching everywhere for his missing baby. 

So that’s something, anyway. 

# 

An orderly takes him back to Jennifer’s office the next day. His knees shake as they approach but when Jennifer opens the door and smiles he relaxes. She’s in a good mood today. She just cuddles him again for a solid hour, telling him this is going to be the only therapy he needs from now on. They talk some, as much as a human can talk to a trained parrot— she asks and he gives what he thinks the right answer has to be. 

The same thing happens the next day. 

On the third day he says something she doesn’t like, something so innocuous he doesn’t even realize it, and her fingers dig into his neck for a moment before she slaps him across the face. It hurts, but the worst thing was the moment before, when the room dropped twelve degrees and he knew he had fucked up and the pain was coming. He apologizes over and over but she sends him away without any comfort. That makes him feel cold and alone, and he sobs for the rest of the night, even though he knows that in the morning Jennifer will be told his pillow was wet. 

During the days he sits silently, so he can’t get into any trouble Jennifer will punish him for. Erica has her C-section. Kira gets taken down to the basement for the first time. Derek comes back. Stiles scents him as soon as he walks in the door and wants to launch himself at him for a quarter-second, before he thinks of Jennifer. 

She’d be furious. She’d beat him again. She would literally kill him. Not figuratively, _literally_. Horribly, the worst part of that thought is that he would never be forgiven. His last feeling on earth would be that he’s failed; his last words a broken _I’m sorry, Alpha_. 

Derek can’t stop Jennifer. So Stiles ignores him. When Derek tries to talk to him— _Who did this to you? Did Jennifer hurt you? Meet me in the bathroom so I can take your pain. Stiles?_ — he doesn’t respond. Because even as Derek says those things, he’s walking Stiles to Jennifer’s office. They are too small for this stream. They can’t control it. They can only be swept away and apart. 

But Derek, damn him, just keeps _trying_. He keeps up the whispering, trying to bolster Stiles; trying to bring him back. 

_I miss your laugh. I love your laugh._

 _I love your shit-eating grin when I roll my eyes at you._

 _

I love the way you used to find a patch of sunlight in the woods and wriggle into it. Like a cat. 

I never thought about it before, but yeah, that’s how you are. Catlike. So I guess Leo is an okay name for the baby after all. 

I love you, Stiles. I love you.

_

It hurts. Because it feels like he’s talking to someone who isn’t there anymore. Stiles doesn’t want Derek here just to watch what’s happening, so he finally whispers back: _If you can’t get me out of here, let me die._ He’d been angry at Derek when he’d said it, but it comes out limp. Maybe he’s just smart enough now to know you never say anything to an alpha in anger. He’d wanted Derek to get the picture and just leave. To give up on Stiles once and for all. 

But Derek, stupid loyal brave Derek, instead takes Stiles at his word: 

_We are going to burn Eichen to the fucking ground_. 

He sounds savage when he whispers it. It makes the new trained-omega inside of Stiles sit up and pay attention. He pictures Eichen burning, thick dark twisting plumes of smoke like the black veins when Derek takes his pain. All the hurt dissolving into ash and air. 

Soon, though, Stiles thinks— when Jennifer finds out, and she will find out, he’s going to be in so much trouble. It scares him so badly that, as he’s walked to her office for his next session, he wonders if maybe he should tell her. Mitigate the damage. She’d probably be proud of him. But he doesn’t want to betray the others. 

She can tell something is wrong. “Omega?” she asks softly, nuzzling the top of his head. “Something on your mind?” 

He shivers and shakes his head. 

“You’re not lying to me, are you?” 

“No, Alpha.” He feels confused and scared. His hands go automatically to his belly; he likes to feel when the baby kicks. That distracts her and she pulls his hands away, tsking. 

“No need to make yourself feel bad, is there?” 

“No, Alpha. I’m sorry.” He keeps forgetting that she said he should distance himself from the baby. It will only hurt more when they take it away. 

If he stays quiet about the plan, maybe he can get away and keep his baby. 

But. 

He’s different now. Jennifer broke something. Even if he escapes, does he really want to spend the next fifty years with Derek, always knowing that he’ll never again be the person Derek had loved? 

Because the laughter, the shit-eating grin, even the sunlight— 

She took it away. 

“Sweetie. What’s wrong?” Jennifer rocks him. 

“I don’t know, Alpha.” He turns to burrow into her chest, seeking comfort. 

“Aww.” She pets him, a smile in her voice. Amused. “Well, that’s okay. Sometimes omegas just feel bad. That’s why you have alphas to help.” 

She’s being so nice that he’s afraid to tell her. When the session ends he hesitates at the door, then just lets the orderly walk him away. 

He whispers the plan to Isaac once he’s back in his room. Isaac is desperate to find Emma again, so he’s better suited to lead the others out. The idea of Stiles stabbing an orderly in the eye with a fork is laughable at the moment. He imagines a swarm of omegas going down the hallways armed with cutlery, chanting, “ _I’m sorry, Alpha! I’m sorry, Alpha!_ ” in unison as they try to fight their way out. 

This plan is doomed. 

Even when he wakes up the next morning he isn’t sure if he’s going to tell or not. Derek isn’t here this morning; he’s coming in the afternoon to put everything into motion. Stiles’s head swims. He doesn’t want to get Derek into trouble. But this is going to go so, so wrong, and then Jennifer is going to hurt him. 

In the end, he doesn’t have to decide. 

They come for him at three o’clock. 

Jennifer almost never walks into the common room, so as soon as the omegas feel her presence the room falls completely silent. Stiles watches her enter, knowing in his bones she’s here to get him. She has a police officer with her, two orderlies, and Kate Argent, who looks around at the omegas like she’s at a meat market. 

Jennifer walks over and puts her hand on his neck. “Up,” she orders quietly. He can’t tell if she’s angry or not. “Now.” 

He stands and lets her steer him out of the room and down to her office. The cop and Kate come in with them while the orderlies wait outside. “I decided to talk to Kate again,” Jennifer tells him. “About the lie you told me. I wanted to apologize for believing you instead of her, and I explained that it seemed you’d been influenced into the lie by one of our orderlies. Our newest hire.” 

“And I just had a little hunch.” Kate leans forward. “You remember Deucalion, right? He was arrested three days ago for biting Scott McCall. Quite a shock; he’d hidden all the while what he really was— but it made me think. If Derek Hale hadn’t been the culprit, how could he have known to run?” 

Stiles’s stomach turns. 

“I remembered that you were in the hospital. Apart from your father, and I can’t imagine him leaving McCall’s side, you were the only one who could have tipped Hale off. So I asked Jennifer to tell me about this orderly. She showed me his picture.” 

“There is no Miguel, is there?” Jennifer asks quietly. “It’s Derek. He came here to try and get you out. Isn’t that true?” 

Stiles hunches forward. His brain feebly whirls to find a lie, but it turns up empty. 

“Tell me the truth, omega. Is Derek Hale the baby’s father?” 

They already know. It’s already all over. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

Jennifer sighs. “It’s all right. Come here.” 

He’s too afraid to move, but she repeats it in her best no-nonsense voice and he has no choice but to get up and crawl into her lap. She hushes him, smoothing a hand over his hair. He’s not sure if she’s being nice just because the cops are here, but he takes advantage of it, pressing his face into her chest. He keeps repeating that he’s sorry. He can’t stop. 

“Shh,” Jennifer murmurs, rocking him. “Calm down, sweetie. He took advantage of you. The police are going to take him away and he won’t bother you anymore. I know it was hard. Thank you for being honest so we can get you the help you need.” She looks over at the cop. “He comes on shift at five,” she says in a much colder tone of voice. “Make sure you use handcuffs with wolfsbane.” 

The cop nods and leaves the room. Stiles clings to Jennifer, expecting her to turn on him, but she stays gentle. “My poor baby. No wonder it was so hard for you to heal, being bonded to a monster like that who was trying to influence you every day. Everything’s going to be all right now. Shh, you’re getting my shirt all wet. Sit up.” 

He does. Kate is still in the room, watching them with a little smirk on her face. Jennifer cups his cheeks, _omega-focus hold_ ; he recognizes it but can’t stop it from being effective. “You want to get better, right?” 

He nods automatically. 

“I think, right now, the thing you need to do is move on from Derek and what he did to you. So I’ve spoken with Dr. Haigh and we’ve decided to deliver the baby by C-section today. That’s why Alpha Argent is here, so she can bond with it and take it home. Then we can really start to work on getting you settled. Okay?” 

Stiles stares at her. “But it’s…I’m not full term yet.” 

“No, but you’re close, and the doctor says the baby looks very good. Now that we know what we know about its parentage, there’s no reason to be worried. Werewolves are much stronger than humans.” 

The realization that they know his baby might be a werewolf nearly makes him jump out of Jennifer’s lap. He looks at Kate in a panic and she just stares right back, smiling. “You…if he’s a werewolf, you won’t…you can’t…” He stammers out half-thoughts, afraid to say something that might make either of them angry. Kate Argents has killed werewolves. She killed this baby’s family. He can’t let her take him. 

“Most werewolves I meet have already been corrupted by their packs,” Kate tells him. “Even the children are just made…unredeemable. But if I can teach my son right from wrong, and make sure he never shifts, and even train him to help me hunt down monsters like his father, hopefully nurture will be stronger than nature.” 

“You won’t hurt him?” 

“I’ll make sure he isn’t something that deserves to be hurt.” 

“That’s a good thing,” Jennifer tells him. She puts her hands over his belly, maybe seeing his own hands start to go there protectively. “A _very_ good thing.” 

He hears himself make a confused, scared little sound. A part of his brain is screaming that he needs to be running, fighting, making a plan. The other part is telling him to just obey. Stop struggling against the current. 

“The doctor is ready to begin immediately. We’ll put you under and by the time you wake up it’ll all be over. Everything that’s holding you back will be far away. Are you ready?” 

He thinks of Derek in handcuffs. His baby in Kate’s arms. Himself covered in bruises, put through beating after beating. He can only avoid the last thing. Slowly, too ashamed to look anywhere but at the floor, he nods. 

“Good boy,” Jennifer croons. She pulls him close and rubs circles on his back. “So, so good, omega. We won’t even worry about your punishment until tomorrow.” 

# 

“Tell me again,” Derek says. 

“I’m going to wait right in the woods where the truck will turn onto the back road about ten miles from Eichen. When I hear it coming I’ll jump out into the road so it will stop. If it doesn’t I shift and chase it down. When the driver gets out I put my claws right into the nape of his neck and make him think he broke down by the side of the road miles away and got lost wandering. Oh, and I also make him think it’s really, really hot out, so he’ll take off his clothes. I’ll give him mine and put his on. Then I get in the truck and drive it up to the gate. They might stop me, since there’s no delivery on the schedule. If I can’t get through I ram the gate until it breaks down. Then I drive to the delivery entranceway as fast as possible.” 

Derek nods, pleased with Scott’s near-perfect recitation. “Good. Keep going.” 

“I’ll text you as soon as I get the truck so you know when to start the fire. By the time I get there, the omegas should already be waiting. If not I get inside and help them into the truck. Stiles should be able to tell us if anyone’s missing. You’re the last one in. We shut the hold and drive out of there, ditch the truck at the same place I picked it up, and lead the omegas on foot through the woods until we’re back here.” 

“Right. And above all, make sure you’re texting me the whole time. I need everything blow-by-blow.” 

“Yes, sir.” Scott’s grin falters. “You’re sure Stiles is up for this? What if we get there and he’s just…?” 

Derek shakes his head. “I’ll be inside to make sure he’s okay. If he can’t lead the omegas, I’ll tell someone else— Isaac, probably. As long as he’s able to run with the rest of them, he’ll be fine.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you in there, dude.” Scott salutes him. “Good luck.” 

“You, too.” Derek heads out to his car. He’s got the kerosene poured into water bottles, so the guards at the gate won’t be able to tell when they check, and matches inside his jacket pocket. He’s going to start the fire using a bunch of old uniforms in a supply closet, so it will catch and spread before anyone notices. There’s a fire alarm, but not much in the way of an evacuation plan. The orderlies are just supposed to get the omegas to the courtyard. Instead the omegas will take advantage of the confusion and make a run for it. 

He drives to Eichen slowly. This is it. No more treading water. This either works or it doesn’t; saves them or ends them. He catches himself scowling ferociously in concentration and tries to smooth out his expression before he gets to the guard tower. He wears his emotions on his face. Stiles had told him that. During one of their meetings in the woods he’d been upset about something and Stiles had teased him, sat on his lap and tried to force him to smile. _What the matter, big guy? What’s got those eyebrows in a twist? Were you chasing a little bunny rabbit that got away?_

Derek had tried to resist. _You’re obnoxious_. And Stiles had just laughed at him and snuggled into his lap as if he didn’t even know what his scent was doing to Derek. _I believe the term you’re looking for, Mr. Growly, is ‘cute as hell.’_

God. He has to get Stiles out of here. 

He stops at the gate, as always, and waits to be cleared. The guard who comes down seems off. He only spends about two seconds glancing through the car, though he’s usually much more thorough, and he stinks of nerves. “You’re good,” he says without making eye contact, stepping back quickly. 

Derek hesitates. “Everything okay up there?” 

“Yeah. Fine. Head on up.” His heartrate speeds. He’s lying. 

Something’s wrong. 

Derek watches in his rearview mirror as he drives away. The guard is on his walkie, eyes on the car. He’s reporting that Derek is on his way. 

Has Stiles spilled the plan? Derek’s hands tighten around the wheel. This isn’t happening. Not today. When he drives into the back lot, he catches a glimpse of a cop car half-hidden near the delivery entrance. 

Fuck. _Fuck_ , they’re screwed. He grabs a bottle of kerosene and slips it into his jacket pocket, next to the matches. There are three ways in and out of the building: the main entrance, the delivery entrance, and the courtyard entrance. The first two are out. The courtyard entrance might be his best bet, but he has to use his swipe card to get in, and that would tip them off. 

He heads that way regardless. If someone opens the door he could overpower them and slip inside. The courtyard entrance is a blind spot for the cameras, so sometimes the orderlies use it for an illicit smoke break. He was supposed to have two hours until the omegas went to their rooms to make sure everyone was on board with the plan. As it is, he’s going to be stuck here hiding until Scott arrives with the truck. 

And if the cops come out here looking for him…he hesitates in the shadows of the doorway. He might have to kill. 

He lets out his claws in preparation for it just as the door beeps to signal someone is coming out. It nearly hits him and he crouches defensively, only to see Dr. Morrell, forehead creased with exhaustion. 

“Oh my God,” she gasps as soon as she sees him. “Miguel. _Derek_.” 

“Shut up,” Derek says desperately. “Scream and I’ll kill you.” 

“Jennifer said you were going to be arrested.” 

“I didn’t like that plan.” Derek grabs her arm and pulls her outside. He has no clue what to do with her for the next two hours. “So everyone in Eichen knows who I am?” 

“We just got an email about it. I knew there was something off about you. I just knew it. Stiles was so different after you came…” 

“Where is he? Is she punishing him?” He has to get inside. He could use Morrell as a human shield, though he doubts Jennifer would care much if she died. 

“I don’t know. Jennifer won’t let me see him. Derek, you have to get him out of here now. Whenever Jennifer takes special interest in an omega things go very, very badly for them. She’s going to destroy him.” 

Derek stares at her. “Are you offering to help me?” 

“I…” her eyes dart around the yard. “I can look the other way. That’s the most I can do.” 

“You need to do more.” 

“I can’t! Just because I don’t agree with Jennifer’s methods, and I’m afraid they’ll backfire on Stiles, I can look the other way. But I work for the OSS, and I believe in the system. I can make this one exception, one time, but that’s it.” 

“You need to do more,” Derek repeats. “You’ve seen what they do to the people here. Just because they’re omegas doesn’t make it okay. If you don’t help me, each and every one of them, including Stiles, will be trapped forever. You want to be the one signing those death certificates? It’s your choice.” 

She stares at him, torn. “You’ll keep them all safe?” 

“Each and every one.” 

“But you’re a werewolf. You’re not…” 

“Jesus Christ.” Derek’s patience snaps. “No, I’m not going to turn them all into my personal harem, or make them pregnant with my demon werewolf babies, or _eat_ them, or whatever the propaganda is saying these days.” He’s heard it all before: that werewolves turn into complete monsters around omegas and if left unchecked would happily drag screaming omegas off to the forest to impregnate them with a whole litter of pups. “Stop looking for a reason not to do what you know is right.” 

She closes her eyes in defeat. “What do you need me to do?” 

“Hide me in your office. Find out where Stiles is.” He hesitates. It might be best to save _burn the motherfucker down_ until later. “You need to decide now. They know I passed through the gate, so they’ll be looking for me. If you say no, I’m going to fight my way in. Pick. Now.” 

“Okay,” she says, so softly he almost doesn’t hear. “I’ll help you. To prevent bloodshed only.” 

“Good. Swipe your card and we’ll go in together.” 

She does. He walks inside with her. “Pretend we’re talking about something.” 

She throws him a panicked look. “Ah— nice weather we’re having?” 

He ducks his head down so the cameras won’t see his face. “Lots of sun this week.” 

“I hear we’re going to have a record-breaking summer.” They reach her office and he practically throws himself inside before whoever’s watching the cameras can get a good look at him. “Oh, my God,” Morrell says, putting a hand on her chest. “That was the most terrifying minute of my life.” 

He rolls his eyes. She might not be the best choice to play firebug. “Find Stiles. If he’s with one of the orderlies, make up a reason you need him and bring him here. If he’s with Jennifer, come back and tell me. Hurry.” 

She nods and slips out. He paces the office. For all he knows she’s going to change her mind midway and burst in here with a squadron of cops, but he has to take the risk. 

He sees himself in the window. Scowling again. Stiles used to say he was going to give himself wrinkles. The rest of that memory in the forest comes back unbidden: Stiles had kept teasing him about why he was so grumpy, about the little bunny rabbit that got away, until Derek had finally just kissed him to shut him up, pinning him to the ground. The air had changed around them, turning heated and dangerous, silently pushing for more. Stiles had felt it and grinned up at Derek. _I’m the bunny now_. Then he’d jumped up and made a run for it, a bright trail of laughter stretching back. 

Derek had caught him. That’s what Stiles had wanted. Had known would happen. Derek can still hear his laugh, just the ghost of it, like he used to imagine the ghosts of his family’s screams as the house burned. 

The doorknob turns and he jumps up. Morrell enters, hands shaking and shoulders hunched. She looks up at him. “I’m so sorry,” she says. 

His teeth bare. “What.” 

“They…they decided to take the baby. He’s already been taken to the delivery room. They’ve probably put him under already. I’m not allowed back there; nobody but Jennifer and the doctor are. I’m so sorry, Derek, but there’s nothing we can do.” 

His mind reels. “They— they’re going— but it’s not time yet.” 

“Kate Argent is here to take the baby after it’s born. She’s waiting right outside. 

_Kate Argent_. Once upon a time Derek had thought Kate Argent was his friend. His only friend, outside his family. She’d said she wasn’t afraid of werewolves. It was all an act, because she wanted to know what would kill a werewolf, and he’d been too young and dumb and lonely to realize what her eager questions were actually meant for. He’d told her there was an old legend that the only wound a werewolf couldn’t heal was a burn, some kind of crap like _only the fire of the sun can kill the creatures of the moon._. He’d laughed about it, saying it was just a dumb ghost story his uncle Peter would tell, and now his littlest brothers and sisters were afraid of the fireplace. 

She’d laughed with him and burned his house down with his family inside a week later. 

Now she wants his son. 

He’d rather die than let that happen. He’d rather burn inside Eichen than let it happen. 

But he’d made a promise to Stiles that he would save the baby first. If Stiles is drugged somewhere, unable to run, Derek would have to carry him, and he can’t have both Stiles and the baby and still get all the omegas out with only Scott to help. 

He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and thinks, and thinks, and thinks, but he doesn’t know what to do. 

# 

Stiles is taken down a hallway he’s never entered before, through a doorway Jennifer has to open with a special key. The delivery wing. 

“Here we go,” Jennifer says gently, steering him into a room marked _Prep_. “You’re doing so well, sweetie. Almost there.” 

She changes him into a gown and puts his hair under a cap, then gets him situated onto a stretcher. “We know omegas don’t like needles, and we have to be careful about how we anesthetize you to keep the baby safe, so we pump it into the room through the vents. It’ll be a very slow, gradual process, so you’ll just feel sleepier and sleepier, and you won’t even realize when you’ve fallen under. You won’t wake up until tomorrow morning. Are you still doing okay?” 

“Yes, Alpha.” 

“You’re being such a good boy.” Jennifer squeezes his hand and stands. “I’m going to go back to my office and finish some paperwork with Alpha Argent. The doctor is preparing and he’ll come get you when he’s ready. But by then you’ll already be asleep. Would you like me to turn the lights off to help you get to sleep easier?” 

“Yes, please, Alpha.” 

She gives him a little kiss on the cheek, turns off the light, and leaves. He shuts his eyes and hears the first hiss of the knockout gas as it comes through the vents. 

He just has to lie here and soon it will be over. He’ll wake up and he won’t be pregnant anymore. Derek will be on his way to prison. The baby will be with Kate Argent. 

Tears spring to his eyes. _I’m sorry, Derek. I’m sorry, Leo._

Not Leo. The baby will have another name now. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers out loud. He’s always apologizing these days. What a fucking textbook omega he’s turned out to be. “I loved you, Leo. I’m sorry.” 

In response he feels a kick. The baby is awake. His mind clouds as more gas pumps into the room. “I’m sorry,” he says again. To Derek and his baby. To his dad and his mom, who wanted him to keep fighting; who made him believe he was something worth fighting for. Who would hate to see what he’s now fighting against. 

“Stop,” he mumbles feebly as the baby keeps it up, kicking him almost frantically. 

Reality blurs and splits. 

He is six and his mother is dying. She won’t get out of bed, and he’s mad. He’s so mad at her. He’s pulling her arm, shaking her shoulders, and eventually hitting at her to get her to move. 

_Get up. Get up._

 _I still need you._

 _

Don’t give up.

_

He hits. The baby kicks. 

_Get up._

His mom looks at him with a gray face, a skeleton face. _I’m not giving up. I might not be able to win, but if fighting keeps me with you another second, we’ll have that second together. I promise._

He can see her. He remembers. 

She’d gotten up. It had been a struggle, but she sat up and smiled at him. He sees her smiling, even as she's dying. He hears her: _We’re not done here yet, Stiles. Don’t give up on me. I’m not giving up, period._

And even though eventually there came the day when she couldn’t get up anymore, he knew that she’d fought it until the end. Cancer had taken her body, her future, her life, but never her strength. She was a fighter, she’d always been a fighter, and she wouldn’t let anything destroy such a fundamental piece of herself. Cancer took her from the world. But it hadn’t taken her from herself. 

Stilinskis are fighters. Alpha, beta, or omega; child or adult. 

He sees his mom’s fierce smile. 

The baby keeps kicking. 

_I still need you._

 _Don’t give up on me._

 _

We’re not done here yet. 

Get up.

_

Kick. Kick. Kick. 

“Okay,” he mumbles. He pushes himself off the edge of the gurney and nearly crashes to the floor. It takes him a second to find his legs. “Okay, Leo. You win.” 

He can still hear the hiss of the gas as he leans against the wall just to move forward. If the door is locked, this will be the saddest failed escape attempt in history. 

It’s not locked. 

The baby pulverizes his ribs in celebration. 

“The motivation is great, buddy, but you’re not a super helpful partner here.” Stiles stumbles out and gulps in fresh air until the fog in his brain dissipates. Well. Now what? He looks down at his belly as if the baby might start kicking in a certain direction or something. 

Nope. The baby settles. Probably napping on the job, which is just _typical._

Fuck, he’s loopy. He shakes his head again and starts down the hallways towards the double doors. He passes the delivery room and ducks his head, certain the doctor is about to walk out. He has no doubt that Jennifer and Kate will be on their way back here soon so the baby can be placed right into Kate’s arms. 

He shudders and just keeps moving forward. One step, and one battle, at a time. 

# 

Scott waits in the shadows of the trees for the truck. Derek has sent him a few updates and as far as he can tell the rescue is fucked six ways from Sunday, but he’s carrying out his part of the plan anyway. 

He’s getting his best friend out of there. Like, _now._

He feels tremors underneath his feet. The truck is a little early. He bounces on his toes to pump himself off, then staggers out in the middle of the road as if he’s hurt. He puts both hands up and cringes away from the headlights. 

The truck squeals to a stop and he hears a door opening. “You okay, buddy?” 

“I…I’m hurt. I need help.” He stumbles forward, scraping his palms against the road as he falls. The driver swears and hurries forward to grab him. Scott waits until he’s off-balance, then lengthens his claws and pierces the man’s neck. 

He’s been training and training with Derek, but it still requires more concentration than he’s ever given anything before to implant the false memories. _Truck crashed. Hit my head. Got lost wandering. Need to find a doctor._ He watches the man’s eyes go unfocused. _Hot. Hot. I’m so hot. Have to take off my shirt._

The man’s fingers fumble with the buttons of his uniform shirt. 

_Find a hospital. Get help. Forget about the truck. Forget this happened._

The shirt falls to the ground and Scott pulls his claws out of the man’s neck. As he watches the man stumbles off without looking back, one hand on his head. 

Scott feels sort of bad for him. Derek told him there won’t be any lingering effects, but still. Stiles would totally be doing some sort of Yoda voice right now: _With great power comes great responsibility, young one._ Or maybe that’s Spiderman. He can never keep Stiles’s quotes straight. 

He pulls on the guy’s shirt and gets into the truck. He’s never driven anything this big before, but it makes him remember when Stiles taught him how to drive. So many people mocked him for having an omega best friend. But they’d never talked to Stiles. They didn’t know what they were missing. 

_I’m coming, buddy._

He shoots off a text to Derek and steps on the gas. 

# 

Derek makes Morrell go on another quick fact-finding mission for him. She returns to report that the cops are outside searching in the woods for him, thinking he must have jumped the fence. 

Good. 

“Walk with me,” he orders, and goes with her down the hall to the surveillance room. Harris is in there, slumped in his chair as he watches the monitors. His jaw drops when he sees Derek. “Hey—!” 

Derek grabs him and slams his head against the wall until he goes limp. 

Morrell squeaks. 

“He’s not dead.” Derek kicks Harris’s body into the corner. “Unless he decides to wake up.” He sits at the monitors and looks back at Morrell. “Have the omegas been sent to their rooms?” 

“Yes.” 

“Go get Isaac. Bring him here.” Derek turns to the monitors. There’s no surveillance in the delivery wing, so he can’t see where Stiles is. Everything else is quiet. He presses a button and sees Jennifer walking towards her office. 

That’s where he needs to be. 

“Derek?” 

He looks up to see Isaac with Morrell. “Isaac. Glad to see you.” 

“What’s going on? Stiles told me we were getting out, but then they took him away, and I wasn’t sure if you were still coming...” 

“You’re still getting out of here.” Derek’s phone beeps. Scott’s on his way. “Morrell, go find every orderly you can and tell them the police need help looking for me outside. Isaac, get the other omegas and take them to the delivery entrance. Yell, threaten, carry them if you have to, but get them out of their rooms as fast as possible. If someone tries to stop you—” 

“Kill them,” Isaac finishes. “No problem.” 

“Oh, God,” Morrell mutters. “This is insane.” 

“Go,” Derek orders her. She waffles for a second, but she’s in too deep to refuse, so she eventually follows Isaac down the hall. Derek watches on the monitors until he sees most of the orderlies have headed outside, then shuts the monitors all off and heads towards Jennifer’s office. He can overpower her, grab her swipe card, and get to the delivery wing. 

Her door is open and he can hear voices: 

“— sure a werewolf baby can survive this early?” 

“Of course not. But you’re the one paying for it. We don’t have much in the way of premature care, it’s never been an issue before.” 

“Not that it matters. It wouldn’t exactly be a tragedy—” 

“Not at all. If we’d known what it was, we would have terminated instantly…” A cold laugh. “Maybe we’ll find out if werewolf pups die of SIDS.” 

“Now, Jennifer, I’m going to be a wonderful mother to the little monster. But if it doesn’t work out, I’ll take the omega as a consolation prize.” 

Kate. Derek feels his lips stretch over his teeth in a snarl. They’re talking about his son. His child and his mate, trapped and threatened by _them_. Stiles may not be his mate in the legal sense, and the baby may not be born yet, but it’s different for werewolves. That’s his whole pack they’re carelessly discussing, like their lives and deaths mean nothing. He’s going to make them _suffer._

Jennifer laughs again. Her phone rings. “Hello? No, he’s— what the hell do you mean he’s _gone?_ ” 

Derek’s heart leaps. 

“That little _bitch_.” Jennifer slams her phone down. “He got out of the prep room. He must be running around here somewhere.” 

Kate’s chair screeches against the floor. “Did they catch Hale?” 

“I don’t know, they think he went for the woods. You can deal with him if you want. I have to find the omega.” 

Derek ducks quickly into another office and waits for her footsteps to pass. She’s followed closely by Kate, who has a hand on her gun, clearly thinking she’ll go find Derek herself. 

Derek has to find Stiles before either one of them find him first. He reaches into his jacket pocket to see if the kerosene and matches are still there. 

Eichen might yet burn tonight, after all. 

# 

Stiles could really, really use a compass right about now. He’s still light-headed from the anesthesia and he keeps getting turned around, unable to find the way to the delivery entrance. 

The hallways are completely deserted, at least. By now someone has to have realized he’s gone from the prep room. Jennifer’s going to show up with an orderly any second now. 

They’re going to just drag him right back there. Strap him down this time. Cut Leo out of him and smack him around until he’s obedient again. 

_No, don’t think like that. There has to be a way out._

 _Come on, baby werewolf. Give me a hand and do some freaking tracking in there._

He pushes open a set of double doors and recognizes his surroundings. This is the hallway he’d been dragged down when he was taken to the basement. That means he’s closer to the delivery entrance than he’d thought. 

Not that there’s any guarantee anyone’s going to be there. But if he doesn’t have positive thinking right now, he has literally nothing. 

He makes a break for the door at the end of the hallway, only to have it open moments before he get there. 

“There you are, omega.” 

Jennifer. 

“Get away from me,” he says feebly, backing up against the wall. He runs his hands behind him desperately as if he’ll find a weapon. 

Her lips curve up. “Sweetie. I think you might be a little confused.” 

“Don’t call me that. Don’t touch me.” No weapons in the walls. He closes his hands into fists instead. 

“Well, I see all our progress has been reversed.” Jennifer advances on him. “I’m dying to know. What was your plan? You haven’t been able to escape for the past six months, so what made you think you’d find a way out tonight? I thought you were supposed to be smart.” 

“Nah. Just scrappy.” When she takes a step forward he throws himself at her, leading with his weight to get her off-balance. She shoves at him and he goes for the eyes, trying to gouge them with his thumbs. 

She shrieks and slams her elbow into the soft spot where his stomach just starts to curve out. He doubles over and she grabs him by the neck, fingers digging into his pulse. 

“Oh, omega. That’s just… _adorable_. So tell me, what will I have to do this time to break you? Burn your feet, maybe, so you can’t run away again? Choke you until you can’t make your little smartass comments? Or are you just totally and completely unfixable?” 

“The last one,” he wheezes. 

“My, we’re brave today. But you know, I think you might actually be right. So today we’ll give you your C-section, and in a few days we’ll give you a lobotomy. Scrape off that naughty little layer of personality and see what’s left. After what you’ve pulled here, I’m sure I can convince the OSS to sign the paperwork immediately.” 

Stiles shifts his gaze to over her shoulder and doesn’t respond. 

“You’ll be a beautiful little doll, perfectly packaged for your next owner. A nice, permanent solution for an omega who just wouldn’t let his brain match his biology.” Jennifer waits, but Stiles just keeps staring past her and doesn’t respond. “What? No _please, Alpha?_ No tears? No _I’m sorry, Alpha?_ You have nothing to say at all?” 

“One thing.” Stiles finally tears his gaze away from what he’s been looking at. “Fuck you, Jennifer. You really should have looked over your shoulder.” 

Her look of disgust turns to shock as Derek impales her neck with his claws and roughly drags her away from Stiles. She chokes and Derek lifts her from the ground, wrapping his hand around her neck, using the same control hold she’d used against Stiles with about ten times more force. She kicks feebly and he tightens his grip, squeezing until her eyes flutter closed and her body goes limp. 

Derek looks at Stiles. His hands are still tight around Jennifer’s neck, only seconds away from snapping bone. “Say the word,” he says quietly. 

God, he wants this. He really, really fucking wants it bad. He opens his mouth to give an answer when he hears the door bang against the wall and a panicked cry: “The police are coming back!” 

He looks to see Morrell. He panics, thinking she’s going to grab him or something, but she’s looking right at Derek in desperation. “You have to get out now!” 

Derek drops Jennifer unceremoniously to the ground. “Keep them out,” he orders Morrell calmly. “If anyone else is inside you care about, get them out too. Anyone left in this building in ten minutes will be dead.” 

“Why? What are you going to do?” 

Derek takes off his jacket, then pulls the shirt off Jennifer’s unconscious body. He pours a hazy liquid from a water bottle over the bundle. “Stiles, get to the door.” 

Stiles moves, keeping an eye on Morrell, who watches Derek for a second before turning and bolting back the way she came. Derek kicks a hole in the wall until wiring is exposed. “What are you doing?” Stiles asks, keeping an eye on Jennifer. 

“We need a distraction or they’ll shoot out the tires of the truck. I’m going to start a fire. The building’s old, so it should go up quick.” Derek rips wiring out, then drops the soaked bundle of clothes until the wire’s frayed ends are resting on top. He back up until he’s right next to Stiles, against the door. “Scott’s here. He and Isaac are loading the omegas into the truck. We’re going to have to make a run for it. Are you ready?” 

“I’m ready.” 

Derek lights a match, tosses it, and grabs Stiles’s hand to run before it even falls. Stiles’s last sight is of Jennifer, still lying unconscious on the ground. This hallway is going to go up in smoke quickly. She has no way out. 

He isn’t sorry. He just wishes he could watch. 

“Stop,” Derek barks. They’re in front of a supply closet. Derek grabs a few uniforms, douses them, and kicks a second hole in the walls before lighting another match and bolting again. Within seconds the fire alarm starts to blare. They skid past the omegas’ empty rooms and through the common area; Derek puts a lit match to one of those inane motivational posters. _Only when you are SILENT can you LISTEN; only when you are OBEDIENT can you TRUST; only when you ACCEPT can you be HAPPY._

He recaps the bottle and is just reaching for Stiles’s hand again when a _bang_ roars out, so loud Stiles thinks for a second Derek must have caused an explosion. He looks to sees Kate Argent, calmly aiming her gun at them. “Next one goes through the omega’s belly,” she says, voice almost a drawl, as if she’s completely in her element amid the smoke. 

Derek hesitates for about a half second, then chucks the water bottle at her head to try and knock her down. She catches it with her free hand and shakes it, examining the liquid inside. “Oh my God, Derek. This is amazing. I almost didn’t believe it was really you burning the place down. What a _copycat_ you are. But you almost forgot.” She twists off the top and splashes the kerosene all over Derek. He staggers backward, hands scrubbing at his eyes. The book of matches falls to the ground and she scoops them up. “Werewolves were made to burn.” 

Stiles rushes forward to help Derek before he blindly wanders against the burning poster and sets himself on fire, but Kate twitches the gun until it’s aiming at him again. “Don’t interrupt when alphas are talking,” she tells him coolly. 

He backs up until he bumps against the end table. 

“So here’s what we’re going to do,” Kate says, shaking out a match. “I’m going to rescue the omega and take both him and the kid as my reward. I’m sure he’s going to need lots of alpha comfort after seeing you burn to death, but don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him.” 

Stiles reaches behind him until he’s grasping the lamp on the end table. 

“Don’t,” Derek gasps, still clawing at his skin, desperate to get the kerosene off. He sounds terrified. His form ripples as if he’s fighting off the desire to shift. 

“But it’s so fitting. Now you can burn, just like you were supposed to with Mommy and Daddy and all your fellow puppies.” She laughs at him as he rips away his soaked shirt, a trembling whine caught in his throat. “My God, you’re pathetic. No wonder your poor omega ended up here. There’s nothing worse than an alpha who doesn’t know how to _man up._ ” Kate lights the match, taunting him with the flame. “Omega, come here. I wouldn’t want you to stand too close when I light him up.” 

“Yes, Alpha.” Stiles rips the cord of the lamp from the wall, take two steps forward, and aims it like a baseball bat. She’s too busy watching Derek to worry about the omega, so she doesn’t seem him coming until it’s too late. It cracks against her skull, the base shattering, and she drops to the ground. The gun skitters out of her limp hand and Stiles snatches it. 

“Derek?” He grabs Derek’s hand and tugs it. “She’s out. We have to go.” 

Derek is still swiping at his skin, so Stiles puts an arm around him to try and protect him from the fire. The air is starting to get hard to breathe. “We’re almost there,” he shouts in Derek’s ear. “The fire’s spreading. Come _on_.” 

Derek nods and they run together. Stiles doesn’t know how long Kate will be unconscious, or if Jennifer is searching the halls for them, or if the truck is even still waiting for them, but he doesn’t look back. They race down another hallway and the air starts to clear. The door to the storeroom where deliveries from the trucks are unloaded is open. 

He almost sobs with relief when he sees his best friend. He’s with Isaac and Kira trying to convince a few terrified-looking omegas into the truck. One of the omegas, a kid who was here even longer than Stiles, is hyperventilating, arms crossed over his chest. “No! I’m scared, I don’t like this! I want to go back inside! I want Alpha Blake! I don’t want to go!’ 

Derek grabs the kid by the shirt and chucks him into the truck. 

The rest follow pretty quickly after that. 

“Stiles!” Scott grabs him in a hug; Stiles returns it as best he can with his stomach in the way. “You scared the shit out of me, I didn’t think you guys were coming.” 

“We met some roadblocks,” Derek practically growls. “Are they all in?” 

Isaac nods, hopping into the back himself. “Everyone’s accounted for.” He reaches down and pulls Kira in. “Did you—” 

He’s cut off by a shout: “Freeze with your hands up!” 

“For fuck’s sake,” Derek snarls. His eyes flare as the beam from a flashlight hits them. He grabs Stiles and pushes him up into the truck. “Scott, go!” 

Scott runs to the front of the truck. The engine is still running and the truck shudders as he puts it into drive. Derek starts to heave himself into the truck, but one of the cops shoots and he falls just as the truck, open back doors swinging, starts to move. 

“Derek!” Stiles screams. He crawls on his arms to the edge and stretches out his hand. Derek struggles to his feet, one hand clutching his shoulder, and runs after the truck. There are more shots, but they miss him, and he leaps for it, nearly tearing Stiles’s arm out of his socket as he grabs it and hauls himself inside. The truck picks up speed as it starts downhill and Stiles looks back at Eichen as it begins to recede. 

The fire has spread. The entire place seems to be glowing orange in the darkness. He can see people huddled together outside, by the parking area. One is standing apart from the others and stares after the truck with their eyes glowing a furious red. 

It’s a woman. That’s all he can see. It might be an orderly or a cop, or Morrell watching them go, but he shudders as he wonders if either Kate or Jennifer got out. If that’s one of them watching, already thinking about revenge. 

Then the back doors swing shut as Scott accelerates down the hill. Seconds later there’s a crash as they speed through the gate. There are some screams and moans from the omegas and a pained groan from Derek, who is still clutching his wounded shoulder. 

Stiles panics. “It wasn’t wolfsbane, was it? Let me see.” 

“Nah. Just hurts.” Derek swats Stiles’s hands away from the wound. “It’s okay, Stiles.” He grips Stiles and pulls him close. He’s shaking. “It’s okay.” 

It hits him. They did it. They’re out of Eichen. _Free_. He sinks into Derek’s hold, closing his eyes as he lets himself drink in the feeling. Warmth, yes; a jack-rabbiting heart beneath his ear; the smell of the woods slightly soured with kerosene; arms around him like anchors. Derek and safety. Home and love. 

“If anyone asks,” Derek says, “that went off flawlessly.” 

Stiles laughs shakily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You did great. Ten out of ten; would escape with again. In fact, I think I see a future in this for you.” 

“Sorry. I’m going out of business. I need to start spending more time with my family.” Derek wraps him more securely, so his hands can splay over Stiles’s stomach and Stiles can rest against his chest. “Are you okay?” he asks softly. “It was…you were scaring me at the end, there.” 

Stiles thinks of the last few days, and everything that still hurts, and the questions that remain about who survived the fire and what comes next. If _okay_ is measured by the same standards as he used to measure it at home, then no. He’s not okay at all. But, well, it’s situational. They’re all safe and they’re all together. He might not be _okay_ by normal standards, but he’s still pretty sure this is the best night of his life. 

“Yeah, Der. I’m good.” He looks around the truck and grimaces. Erica and Boyd are mashed together in a corner, making up for the time they’ve been kept apart. Isaac is trying to comfort one of the kids who didn’t want to get in the truck, while most of the other omegas are sitting in various stages of shock and fear. “I mean, I have _one_ concern.” 

“What’s that?” 

“I’m pretty sure we just caused, like, a five-hundred percent increase in pack membership. Paperwork’s gonna be hell.” 

That catches Derek by surprise and he laughs— a real laugh, one that gets almost everyone in the truck to shut up and stare at him as if they can’t believe it actually came out of his mouth. “That’s okay,” he tells Stiles. He rubs the stubble of his cheek over Stiles’s, an affectionate wolfy gesture, and even though Stiles has been touched and grabbed and slapped and undressed and caressed by a dozen different people this is the first touch in six months that feels real. “We’ll handle it together.” 

Stiles grins. He closes his eyes again and drapes Derek’s arm over his chest so he can press himself securely against the werewolf. They won’t have long for this. The next part will come soon, and it won’t be easy, and he doesn’t know how it will all end. But Eichen is turning into ashes. He’s with Derek. The omegas, and his baby, and Derek and Scott are all safe. That means he gets to savor this moment, this very best moment, in the very best night of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Part One--consider it the midseason finale :) I'll probably take a few days before starting Part Two, but it will come soon, and it will feature the attempted rescue of Emma, birth of Baby Sterek, some reunions that are good and some that are terrible, a sacrifice, a murder, a look at the broader world of this universe and those that fight it, angst, and, eventually, happily ever after.  
> Thanks to all who have read and supported thus far.  
> Also, this is pretty much unrelated to the actual story, and I really debated saying anything, but:  
> Last week I learned two of my stories were put on Goodreads without my knowledge. I’m pretty sure Goodreads isn’t supposed to be used to share fanfiction, and seeing them there was kind of upsetting. Maybe because people who find stories on Goodreads aren’t familiar with the difference between fanfic and published books, or because the feedback through Goodreads isn’t going directly to the author, the things people say about the stories there have a very critical tone. I’m well aware not everyone is going to like what I write. I’m not a professional writer, nor am I trying to become one. I’m twenty-two and have never taken any writing classes beyond high-school English, and I’m pretty sure that doesn’t make me unique here. I write and plot as I go, and I favor stories with lots of plot and angst and not a lot of sex, so I know that what I write isn’t exactly award-worthy or everybody’s cup of tea. Frankly, I don’t think people should expect professional-grade stories when they come here (though of course superstars like DiscontentedWinter and KaliopeShipsIt and Bleep0Bleep and dozens of others who actually are pro or good enough to be spoil us terribly :) ).  
> I’ve been fortunate that most people here just do what to me seems sensible— move on from a story they don’t like without needing to share their reaction. The negative feedback I’ve previously gotten, mostly through bookmark summaries, hasn’t offended me, since I respect that everyone likes different things. But to see, on Goodreads, multiple comments about how bad my stories are, and to then be able to see how many people “like” the comments about how bad my stories are, was really, really hurtful. Since I’m a chronic wound-poker I know full well I’ll probably end up back there again to see a new crop of comments about my writing, and I don’t think it’s oversensitive to be hurt by them, especially since one attacked me personally through the admitted oversharing of information I put in my author notes. Not to get whiny (haha jk this whole note is the whiniest thing ever written) but RL is kind of already overstuffed with stress and rejection, and I started writing fanfic as an escape from that. As ashamed as I am to admit it, those “reviews” made me feel so embarrassed of work that I had been proud of moments earlier that I decided to stop writing and delete what I have on here. Then I told myself to stop being a self-pitying snowflake and grow up, but I still feel really lousy about it. This isn’t to say I hate constructive criticism— I got a comment in the middle of my last fic that was kind of gently constructive, and I took it into consideration and ended up changing the direction of the whole fic in a way I actually preferred to my original plan. But I think the difference between constructive criticism and what I’m talking about is pretty distinct.  
> This novella of my feelings boils down to two main points: Please don’t put my fanfic on Goodreads or similar sites. And, if you come across fanfic that you don’t like for whatever reason, think hard before sharing your reaction, on here or a third-party website. A lot of people here are young, or are just starting out with writing, or use writing as an escape, and can only be hurt by it. Once I calmed down from my own melodrama that was really what upset me the most— that this is probably happening to other posters on here who might handle it even worse than I did. I’m not trying to do some martyring “I’m just fine, but think of the others!” thing by saying that. Even though it’s embarrassing, I’ll admit that my feelings were hurt. But most of all I don’t like the idea that fanfic is being reviewed by the same standards as published books. Nobody’s getting paid to write this, and nobody’s paying to read it, so extremely negative reviews of finished stories seem to me to be just plain hateful. It’s the opposite of what drew me to AO3 in the first place and, frankly put, I think it sucks.  
> Because this note is sad and negative I’ll close by saying: I seriously love so many of you guys. Not because you give me praise or whatever but because, as a whole, you make this fandom a lovely and supportive place that has given me a lot of joy and comfort in otherwise dark times.  
> See you guys soon.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first: you guys are amazing. I obviously wrote last chapter's end notes when I was in a very sad place. I posted, had a long day, got home and thought, "Ooh, that probably came off like a troll for pity. I should delete that." But you guys had already written some of the most lovely, encouraging comments I could imagine, and I can't tell you how much reading them meant. You reminded me why I started posting here and continue to post here, so thank you. You're seriously the most amazing people and I'm sending so much love your way forever.  
> School is back in session so I don't have as much time to write. Next week is going to be especially crazy so I decided to give you a fairly short (by my standards) chapter here that mostly sets up for what's to come, since it might be a little bit before the next post. Once again, no trigger warning for this chapter!

They barely have time to let their newfound freedom sink in before Scott’s pulling the truck to a stop and he and Derek are ushering the omegas out. Some of them are still too freaked to move and Stiles finds himself coaxing them to take a step. It’s weirdly calming, to be the one doing the helping, rather than the one needing help. It makes him feel a little bit more like himself. 

“Come on,” he says softly to the kid who didn’t want to get in. What was his name? Malcolm? Macon? _Mason_. “You got this, Mason. We just have to run for a little bit to make sure we’re in the clear.” 

Mason shudders, arms around his knees stubbornly. “We’re going to be in so much trouble.” 

“Only if we get caught,” Stiles tells him. 

That used to be his life motto. 

Maybe it’s time to reaffirm it. 

The kid hesitates. He looks over at his friend, the other kid who was there even longer than Stiles, currently being convinced by Derek to move it. “Are we going somewhere safe?” 

“We’re going to someplace that isn’t Eichen.” 

His friend stands, and that decides it for Mason. “Okay.” He lets Stiles pull him to his feet and they set off through the woods. Derek and Scott lead the way. They don’t fully shift, probably assuming correctly that it might freak the omegas out, but it’s dark enough that they can half-shift and keep on the path. There isn’t a sound as they move through the darkness, holding on to shirtsleeves and hands to keep from getting separated. 

Stiles walks in the lead so he can talk softly to Scott. “So you’re, like, super-wolf now?” he mutters. 

“Thanks to Derek.” Scott grabs a branch that was just about to whap Stiles in the face. “He’s my werewolf sensei. I approve, by the way. Not that you _asked my opinion_ before getting knocked up by him…” 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. We were trying to be as secretive as possible so we wouldn’t get caught.” 

“That worked out great for you.” Scott looks at Stiles’s huge stomach and even in the darkness Stiles can see him smile. “But I’m glad you and Baby Wolf both made it out of there. Any kid of yours would be awesome, but you _and_ Derek? Genetic lottery.” 

Stiles almost can’t believe how good it feels to have someone else see Derek’s worth. “You really like him?” 

“He’s worthy of you, dude. And I didn’t think anyone could be. I mean, he Mission Impossible’d you out of omega jail, so that says a lot.” 

“Hey, you got me out of there too.” 

Scott rolls his eyes and Stiles tries not to laugh at how ridiculous an eye-rolling werewolf looks. “You already know I love you. Don’t make me say it.” 

“I know.” Stiles bumps his shoulder against Scott’s affectionately. “And hey, you just played superhero to, like, ten omegas. Who needs the OSS to get you mated now?” 

Scott looks over his shoulder nervously. “Yeah? You think Kira Yukimura remembers me?” 

Derek, currently a few steps ahead of them, falls back so they’re all walking together. “You’re not being very stealthy,” he murmurs. 

“Scott was just telling me he approves of you.” 

“He’d better.” Derek puts an arm around Stiles’s shoulders to keep him from stepping into a gopher hole. His face is all wolfed-out and vaguely terrifying, but Stiles can’t resist going up on his tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. 

They’re free. _Free_. He feels overflown with happiness every time he thinks the word. 

Derek and Scott have an apartment right near the edge of the woods and they quickly shepherd the omegas up the steps and inside. “Okay,” Derek says once the door is locked behind them, voice like a boom after the quiet. “You’re safe here. I know you all must be exhausted, so get some sleep, and we’ll all be having a talk in the morning.” 

Since Stiles is still wearing the gown Jennifer had put on him Derek finds him an oversize T-shirt and some sweatpants. There are only two beds and one couch so people end up sprawling out on the floor, using Derek and Scott’s clothes for pillows. Derek tries to force Stiles into one of the beds, but it isn’t big enough for the two of them, and instead they get a blanket and cram into the bathtub together. 

“This is nice,” Stiles whispers after a long period of silence, head pillowed against Derek’s distinctly un-pillow-like chest. He doesn’t want to be quiet. He wants to fill the space to keep his mind right here, instead of going back to that prep room or burning hallway. 

“Mmhm.” Derek sounds completely exhausted. 

“We really haven’t ever _slept_ together. There was the heat, but I was out of my mind, so it doesn’t count.” 

“So true,” Derek mumbles. “Go to sleep.” 

“Are you going to snore? I bet you snore.” 

Derek groans. “I knew you’d be this kind of bedmate.” 

“What kind?” 

“The kind that doesn’t shut up.” 

Stiles grins. “Yeah, that was a pretty safe bet. Try telling me a bedtime story. That worked when I was a kid.” 

“Okay. Once upon a time, there was a werewolf who fell asleep.” 

He promptly does so. 

Stiles stays awake for a while longer, forcing himself to not think if anything but how much he’s enjoying this incredibly uncomfortable, incredibly wonderful sleeping arrangement. 

He enjoys it so much he magnanimously decides he won’t even tell Derek that he snores like a rocket-fueled train. 

# 

He wakes up the next morning to soreness in his back and grimaces, only to immediately feel the pain ebb. He looks to see a still half-asleep Derek, planting his palm right where the pain is the worst, brow furrowed as his black veins ripple. 

“How’d you know it hurt?” he yawns. 

“You’re eight months pregnant and you just slept in a bathtub. I’m surprised you don’t need a full-body cast.” 

Stiles grins and sits up. Even with the lingering soreness he feels awesomely energized. “Shower sex?” he suggests, running his hands under Derek’s shirt. “Seems too good an opportunity to pass up.” 

Derek, the prude, looks horrified. “We have ten people sleeping right outside that door.” 

“So we’ll turn on the water and I’ll be quiet.” 

“ _No_.” 

Stiles scratches his nails over Derek’s chest. “What if I called you my sexy wittle snuggle-wolf? How would that affect my chances of getting a shower blowjob, at least?” 

Derek glowers at him, but Stiles can see a flush creep up his cheeks as he keeps scratching lightly. “Adversely.” 

“You should be nicer to me. I’m using my _claws_.” Stiles presses a little deeper into the line between Derek’s abs. 

Derek groans, dick twitching against Stiles’s arm. “Mine are bigger.” 

“Don’t make me break out the fangs.” 

“Oh, God no,” Derek says sarcastically. “I’d never be able to handle those little milk teeth.” 

“Now you’ve done it.” Stiles lightly sinks his teeth into Derek’s lower belly, at just the right angle that his rapidly thickening dick nearly smacks Stiles in the chin. “Oho,” he says, taking it in hand. “You want the teeth, too?” 

“No teeth,” Derek puffs. 

“Well, what am I supposed to do with it? You were so opposed to shower blowjobs a minute ago.” 

“Stiles…” There’s something in Derek’s voice that’s a little uncomfortable and Stiles freezes. He suddenly realizes that while he and Derek had experimented plenty in the woods, they had only ever _actually_ been together that one time. Then they’d had no contact for six months, and by the time Derek saw him again Stiles was hanging by threads of his old personality. 

Maybe things are different now. 

“I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.” Stiles drops his gaze. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“Wait. Stiles, you know that I still _want_ to, right?” Derek reaches for him, eyes wide and concerned. “It’s just, after what they did to you— I don’t want to take advantage. I don’t want you to think that you owe me, or that this is all I want from you. You know, like you have to please me just because I’m an alpha. I just thought you might need to take things slow.” 

“I don’t,” Stiles says fervently. “I’m not broken.” 

“I know you’re not.” 

“It’s okay if you…if you feel differently now, or whatever. I know I’m changed, I know I was a little weak towards the end—” 

“ _Stop it_. Don’t say that. You are not weak.” Derek holds him tightly. “I love you,” he says. “They could never change that, because they could never change you. Okay? I didn’t burn down a government building for the street cred, I did it because I love you. I just— I want you to feel safe. Not that you owe me. Not that we have to have sex now, because we might not get another chance.” 

“I do feel safe.” Stiles meets Derek’s gaze steadily. “I’m with you.” 

Derek looks at him for a moment and then smiles. “Okay. I trust you, Stiles.” He kisses Stiles, soft at first, but when Stiles wants it harder Derek obliges. They can take their time, so they do, and soon Stiles is panting with the shower knob pressed into his back and Derek’s hands roaming under the waistband of his sweatpants. 

“What was that you were saying about shower blowjobs?” Derek whispers, spitting into his hand so he can jerk Stiles to full-mast. 

Just then they’re interrupted by a knock at the bathroom door. “Hey, horndogs,” Scott calls. “We’re all awake out here. People want to talk. Up and at ‘em.” 

Stiles looks at Derek with what must be an expression of comical disappointment on his face. Derek’s head clunks against the bathtub in disappointment. “Typical,” he mutters. 

“I dream of a better world,” Stiles tells him gravely. “A world where we can have shower sex all day with no interruptions.” 

Derek snorts at him and climbs out of the tub, using every bit of his werewolf strength to tug Stiles’s pregnant ass up too. “Sorry, baby. The real world waits.” 

# 

Scott had gotten up early and made a run for bagels, but only a few of the omegas are actually eating. The rest just sit there warily watching Scott and Derek, waiting for the alphas to tell them what to do. 

Derek stands awkwardly in front of them. He has to be the one to talk to them first. They know him, or at least they think they do, and he’s an alpha. “All right,” he says. “So, my name’s not Miguel, and I don’t work for the OSS. I’m Derek. I’m with Stiles.” 

A few eyes flicker to Stiles. “Why did you take us away?” one omega asks in a small voice. 

“Because what they were doing to you wasn’t okay.” Derek takes a breath. Stiles knows he’s not used to speaking in front of people, and when he stuffs his hands into his pockets Stiles wonders if they’re shaking. “After what they did to you in there I know some of you might be confused. You might think you have to turn yourself in. I’m asking you not to do that. Remember why you got sent to Eichen in the first place. You can be that person again— the one who fought back.” 

One of the omegas raises his hand tentatively, like they’re at school. Derek looks confused but nods at him. “Yeah?” 

“Can we ever go home?” It’s a soft, plaintive question, and Derek winces. 

“You can do whatever you want to do,” he says carefully. “Nobody here is going to order you to do anything. But think carefully about whether or not home is a safe place. The OSS knows your names and where you came from. Will you family hide you? Is there anyone you’re going back to who can give you a long-term safe place? If you want to go, it’s your choice. We’ll help you. If you don’t think you’re in a good headspace to make that kind of decision right now, that’s okay too. You can stay with us for as long as you need.” 

Mason raises his hand, too. “Is it just you two alphas? Or are you working with… other people?” 

Derek looks at him curiously. “It’s just us. But we’re all going to work together to stay safe. We know someone who can make fake IDs back in Beacon Hills.” 

Mason looks like he wants to say something else, but eventually he clamps his mouth shut and goes back to staring at the floor. 

“So.” Derek rocks on his heels, shooting another glance at Stiles. “We’re probably okay to camp out here for a while. We’re about forty-five minutes from Eichen, so hopefully they don’t come straight here looking for us.” 

“We have to go to Beacon Hills,” Isaac says. His mouth is already set stubbornly, like he’s ready to fight about it. “Emma’s there.” 

“Beacon Hills has the largest OSS building in the state. They know me and Stiles are from there and have friends in town. It’s not safe.” 

“I gotta get Emma,” Isaac insists. 

“She’ll still be there in a month—” 

“You don’t know that!” Isaac stands. “I’ll go on my own if I have to. You just burned down a building to save _your_ kid. I don’t care what I have to do to save mine.” 

“You’re going to get us all caught,” Erica snaps. 

“Stay here if you want to, Erica. I know _you_ want to pretend your baby never happened, but—” 

“Hey,” Derek says. “ _Hey_.” He puts a bit of force into it, enough to quiet the buzzing room. “Cut it out. We’re not going to start fighting among ourselves this soon. Isaac, we’ll talk to Stiles’s dad and see what the situation is. We’ll get Emma, I promise. But we’re going to be smart about it. Trust me, I know it sucks to wait.” 

Isaac glares at him for a second, then sinks back down to the floor, furiously avoiding eye contact. 

“Okay.” Derek puffs out a breath. “Anyone else need to say anything?” 

A girl who had only been brought to Eichen the week before raises her hand. “My girlfriend’s out there,” she says. “We were going to run away together, but I got caught. I didn’t give up her name. She’s probably still at home waiting for me. I need to go back.” 

“Do you have her number?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good. Scott, give her your cell phone. You can call and she can come get you.” 

The omega looks surprised, like she expected an argument. “Seriously? Just like that?” 

“Just like that. Like I said, you’re all in control of your own lives. If you know what you want, I’ll help you get it and I’m not going to argue with you about whether or not it’s the right thing. The only thing I ask is that you don’t give up the rest of us if you get caught. That goes for all of you. If you get caught and they question you, say we all separated in the woods. Deal?” 

Stiles is pretty sure everyone mumbles assent. 

“Great.” Derek seems to run out of steam and he just stands there for a second, scratching at his head. “So. Take some time to think about what you want to do. I’ll be here.” 

He walks over to where Stiles is sitting in the corner of the living room. “Nicely done,” Stiles says, extending a hand to tug Derek down next to him. “If you weren’t a fugitive from the law and society’s most hated species, you’d make a good politician.” 

“Thanks.” Derek frowns at him. “Why aren’t you eating?” 

“Not hungry.” 

“You probably haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday. You don’t have any vitamin supplements now. You have to take care of yourself.” 

He’s too nervous about the other omegas and the thought of what kind of manhunt is going on for them to think of food. “Is this an alpha thing? Some need to provide for the preggo?” 

“If I say it is, and providing for you is the only thing that will make me feel better, will you have a damn bagel?” 

“I don’t think that’ll work, dude. You’re a werewolf. To satisfy _your_ instincts I’m pretty sure you have to actually kill something before feeding it to me.” 

Derek rolls his eyes, reaches over to the table with food, grabs a bagel and a knife, and savagely saws the bagel in half. “There,” he says, unceremoniously shoving one decimated piece into Stiles’s hand. “It’s dead. Eat it.” 

Maybe it’s just because his stomach is empty, but this is a _really_ good bagel. There might be something to this provider instinct after all. “You can go hunt and kill some curly fries for me later if you feel like it,” Stiles says around a mouthful. 

“Excuse me? Alpha?” 

“Derek,” he says automatically, looking up at Mason and his friend. “What?” 

They exchange glances and sit down, leaning in close so the other omegas won’t hear. “Did you mean it?” Mason asks softly. “When you said we could stay with you for as long as we wanted? Because we…we don’t have anywhere else to go.” 

“No family? Anywhere?” 

Mason’s friend shakes his head. Stiles feels bad that he can’t remember his name, but he’s a quiet kid, never one to go into the courtyard or talk with the other omegas. “I’m seventeen. And I’ve been in Eichen since I was twelve. Mason was there almost as long. We have nowhere to go.” 

Stiles’s jaw hits the floor. “ _Five years?_ What did you do?” 

“I think I know,” Derek says quietly, looking right at the omega. “It’s Liam right?” 

The kid nods. 

“Bitten or born?” 

Liam’s face turns cherry-red. “What…how did you…?” 

“I’m one, too. Once you train yourself you can sometimes recognize it in others. I guessed after my first two weeks in Eichen but I didn’t want to say anything in case the OSS didn’t know.” 

Liam smiles bitterly. “Oh, they knew. I was bitten when I was ten. My family knew it meant I’d never get mated to a normal alpha, so they tried to hide it, but the OSS tested my blood at a checkup and found out.” Liam scrubs his fist against his leg, hard, like he’s trying to stay calm. “They…they wanted a guinea pig. They used to just mate werewolves with other werewolves, but they thought that maybe, if they found the right medications, they could just make the werewolf gene die out. So they took me to Eichen and started…testing stuff on me. Medicines to ensure I could only ever have human kids. Messing with my hormones to prevent me from ever shifting.” 

Derek makes a soft, furious sound, and Stiles remembers that they’d wanted to give his sister a drug like that to stop her from having werewolf babies. “They were never going to let you go.” 

“Probably not. I was too valuable.” Liam’s voice is shaking now. “But you…you can help me? Maybe help me shift again?” 

“Yes. I’ll help you. I promise.” Derek looks at Mason. “You’re not a werewolf. Why did they keep you so long?” 

Liam and Mason exchange another one of those communication-laden looks and Liam nods slightly, evidently convinced by Derek’s werewolf-status that he’s trustworthy. Mason grimaces. “When I was a kid I met some people. They tried to tell me that there was a better place they could take me. That we didn’t have to live like this. They were… they weren’t from here. They didn’t live in town, and they acted like fugitives or something, like they were on some kind of mission far from home. They told me they wanted to save omegas, and if I went with them everything would be okay.” 

Stiles frowns. “So, like…to the camps in the woods? They’re _real?_ ” Morrell had said they weren’t, but it makes sense that the OSS would try to keep them hidden. 

“I don’t know. I mean, these guys were well-dressed, they had cell phones— it’s not like they were _primitive_ , like they lived in tents and didn’t have running water, you know? They kept telling me they would take me north. Way up north, to the safe place. They gave me a cell number to call when I was ready. I told my best friend Amelia, who was an omega too, because I wanted her to go with me, but she got scared and told. The OSS kicked down my front door later that night. They questioned me for hours about the people I had met and sent me to Eichen when they decided I knew too much.” 

_Up north_. As far as Stiles knows, _north_ of the United States is uninhabited, just a lot of overgrown forest. There used to be another country there, but that was a long time ago, before the OSS was formed. The United States was the first country to governmentalize omega care, when almost every country was struggling to deal with omegas being sold, raped, or trapped in incestuous households. The OSS system had been a humane way to make sure omegas were raised and mated properly, and it was so effective that the countries to the north and south of the States ended up disbanding so they could be absorbed into the new system. The people living there resettled and the land has been empty ever since. 

It makes sense that omegas would run there. But he’d never imagined some might come back to try and run away with others. Stiles shoots a look at Derek— if Cora had found the same people Mason had met, she might be safe right now. “You don’t still remember the number, do you?” 

Mason shakes his head. “You have to understand— Alpha Blake did _everything_ to make me forget. Electroshock, sensory deprivation, even hypnotherapy. It’s fuzzy, but it happened. I know it did.” 

“We believe you,” Derek says. 

Liam squeezes his friend’s hand. “We just…we can’t ever go back to the OSS. Waking up this morning and not being _there_ was like having a bucket of cold water thrown over me or something. It reminded me that I could still live a real life and not just be their prisoner forever. So wherever you go, we’ll follow, if you’ll let us.” 

Stiles sticks out his hand to shake. “Welcome to the pack,” he says. 

# 

The escape has made the news. There are pictures of the missing omegas and Derek, but it appears that nobody knows Scott is involved yet. “We might not be able to stay here as long as I’d hoped,” Derek says as they watch the TV. “If anyone around town has seen me here, or the landlord remembers my face, we might be in trouble.” 

“Maybe we should go back to Beacon Hills.” 

“Maybe.” Derek sighs. His hand rubs at a kink in Stiles’s back; he’s been unable to keep his hands off for most of the day. “Why don’t you give your dad a call?” 

Stiles’s heart leaps. “Does he know where we are?” 

“No. Ask him if it’s safe in Beacon Hills.” Derek throws a look to Isaac, who’s slumped over into a chair, picking at his shoelace. “If we don’t get there soon, I think Isaac might set out on his own and get himself caught.” 

Stiles imagines going back to Beacon Hills. The thought of being home, of seeing his dad again— it’s practically intoxicating. But the Argents are there, and getting Emma out of a government building won’t be easy. He doesn’t want to risk this tenuous freedom. 

But if it was his baby, he’d be jumping off the walls. Isaac is his friend. He owes him this. 

“Maybe Danny can call in a tip on us and make it seem like it’s coming from another state or something. Get the OSS off our trail.” 

“Maybe.” Derek shrugs and gives Stiles his phone. “See what’s going on back home.” 

Stiles takes the phone and goes into the bathroom for privacy. It’s been six months since he’s seen his dad and he almost cries when he hears the gruff, familiar voice on the other end: “Sherriff.” 

“Hi, Dad.” 

John inhales sharply. “Yeah,” he says. “Give me one second.” The phone clunks down and Stiles waits, assuming he’s shutting the door to his office. “Stiles,” he whispers when he’s back. “Oh, buddy. You’re okay? You’re safe?” 

“I’m safe. We’re all safe.” 

“Thank God. Please tell me you’re far, far gone from Eichen. You should be five or six states away by now.” 

Stiles hesitates. 

John groans. “Damn it, Stiles. Where are you?” 

“Still close to Eichen. We need to come back to Beacon Hills.” 

“Look, kid, I want to see you too, but that’s the worst thing you could do right now. You…you know an OSS worker was hurt really badly in the fire, right? They don’t think she’s going to survive.” 

“Jennifer Blake?” 

“Yes.” 

_Good._ Stiles hopes she dies. He hopes she was in agony as she burned. He sees black spots over his vision as he remembers her; hears her voice as though it’s trapped in pockets of his mind: _Such a good boy today… little omega whore.._. He clutches the phone hard. “What about Kate Argent? Did she make it out?” 

“Yeah. The Argents are spitting fire right now about it, though— they’ve already been pushing for me to be put on suspension until you’re caught. Luckily most of my deputies liked you and are too afraid of me to agree. Since you and Derek are from here they know you might come home, and the OSS already set up a checkpoint at the town line.” 

Stiles’s heart sinks. That’s worse than he imagined. “Seriously? They’re checking everyone that comes into town?” 

“Every vehicle is subject to search. Well, except emergency vehicles.” 

Stiles perks up. “You mean like police cars?” 

“Goddamn it,” John mutters. “I was asking for that. You’re not risking your neck just for your old man, Stiles. You, Derek, and Scott should get away from here. Start over somewhere safe. We’ll see each other again, but now…” 

“It’s not just about seeing you, Dad. Don’t get me wrong, I want that more than anything, but one of my friends at Eichen had a baby and they’re keeping her in the Beacon Hills foster center. You know what it’s like for babies in state care. We have to get her.” 

“You’re going to get killed.” 

“If we don’t save her, she might die in there. Or her father will try to get in there himself and get caught. We can’t run and hide until this is finished, Dad. Look, I don’t want you to get into any trouble. But we have to come back home.” 

John is silent on the other end of the phone for a long minute. “I can send two cars to you,” he says finally. “Only because I know if you don’t you’ll just find a more dangerous way of getting in on your own.” 

Stiles grins. “Have I told you lately that you’re my hero?” 

“I think you wrote it on a Father’s Day card when you were seven. Give me your address. I’ll send the cars tomorrow morning.” 

“One sec.” Stiles ducks out of the bathroom to get the address from Derek, then relays it to his father. 

“Stay alive until then, kid.” 

“I’ll do my best. Wait till you see me, Dad. I’m _huge_.” 

“The baby’s okay?” 

“He’s great. Oh yeah, it’s a boy. Me and Derek already have a name picked out and everything.” 

John pauses again, and this time when he speaks he sounds choked up. “I hope I get to meet him, Stiles. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Stiles walks back out to the living room and drops onto the couch next to Derek. “Tomorrow,” he says as Derek puts an arm over his shoulder and draws him close. “My dad can get us in.” 

“You’re sure you want to go? I’d wanted to take you somewhere safe once we left Eichen. This is like we’re walking right back into the OSS’s nest.” 

“Yeah, well, good thing we have each other for protection.” Stiles looks over his shoulder. “Isaac?” 

The omega is still slumped over. He raises his head dispiritedly. “Yeah?” 

“Operation Rescue Emma commences tomorrow. We’re going to Beacon Hills.” 

Stiles has never seen someone’s face change so quickly. “We are? Really?” 

“Really. Only because Derek and I are the best co-godparents in the world.” 

“It’s not going to be easy,” Derek says, pitching his voice a little louder to make sure he has everyone’s attention. “Nobody’s required to come with us. You still have until tomorrow to decide if you want to go somewhere else.” He looks directly at Erica and Boyd as he says it. Everyone else seems to have made up their minds on if they’re going or staying, but Erica and Boyd have just been whispering to each other all morning. 

Erica meets his gaze steadily. “Count us in,” she says. “Especially if we get to burn down another OSS building.” 

“Remind me to keep an eye on her,” Derek mutters to Stiles as the room starts buzzing with quiet conversation again. “The last thing we need is a revolutionary in the pack. After this, we’re going to live quiet lives.” He eyes Stiles’s belly, then shifts onto his side, until his ear is pressed up against the bump. “Don’t move, okay? I’ve wanted to be able to do this for months.” 

“Do what? Telepathically communicate with our baby?” 

“Kind of. We’re bonding. I want him to know my voice.” Derek pulls up Stiles’s shirt. “Hello,” he says formally. 

“You have to make it clear who you are, dude. ‘Hi, son, this is your Papa speaking.’ Stuff like that.” 

“This is your Papa speaking,” Derek repeats dutifully. 

The baby, who’s been pretty excitable all morning as if he too is glad to be out of Eichen, kicks Stiles so ferociously the imprint of his foot is visible. Derek looks delighted. “He heard me!” 

“Maybe he’s kicking in Morse code. He’s saying, ‘I love you, Papa.’” 

Derek doesn’t even roll his eyes. His expression is soft, happier than Stiles has ever seen it. “I love you too,” he murmurs, fingers gentle on the spot where the baby had just kicked. He straightens up and pulls Stiles practically into his lap. 

“I know this trick, alpha,” Stiles says into Derek’s shoulder. “You’re trying to release oxytocin, aren’t you?” 

“Shh.” Derek’s nose is buried in Stiles’s neck. “Don’t talk dirty in front of the others.” 

# 

Four omegas decide to leave. Derek and Scott help them make the appropriate calls, and Scott takes them to an old motel at the edge of town where they can wait to be picked up by friends or family. Derek waits with the others in the apartment, watching the phone carefully, so Scott can call and give them a head start if something goes wrong. 

Stiles and Isaac use Scott’s laptop to look into the Beacon Hills state care facility. It’s not good. The facility rarely has more than one child at a time, and the kids are often transferred from one place to another so resources aren’t being wasted. In the past century there have been three investigations after children died in the facility. The OSS claimed that infants without an omega parent were more likely to become ill, but there’s clearly information missing. Nobody cared enough about the babies to look into it. 

“They let them die,” Isaac says flatly. “Because they’re a burden. They’d rather kill Emma than let me have her.” 

Stiles closes the laptop lid. He feels sick. This is how powerful the OSS is— enough to let the babies in their care die and have everyone look the other way. It had been bad enough when it felt like they were facing down just the local OSS at Eichen, but now it strikes him that for the rest of their lives they will be running from this huge, invincible monster. Nobody has ever actually fought them successfully. They’ve only been able to run. 

His hand rests over his belly anxiously. They could run. But there have no idea what’s out there. Those people Mason had met could be long-dead by now, and even if camps had once existed they might have died out or been raided by the OSS. How can he take his baby out there into the wilderness with no idea of whether or not they’ll have safe landing. 

Whether they stay or go his baby will always be in danger. 

He can’t stop thinking about it and when night finally falls he curls against Derek in their little bathtub-nest. The baby is motionless, sleeping soundly, and Stiles wishes it were that easy for him to find peace for the night. “Are you okay?” Derek asks softly. 

“Peachy-keen.” 

“Liar.” Derek’s eyes glow at him. It doesn’t matter how dark it is. Derek sees. “Are you worried about going back to Beacon Hills? We don’t have to. We can wait.” 

“No, we can’t. Not if we have any hope of saving Emma.” Stiles sighs. “I just…what’s next, after that? Where do we go?” 

Derek is quiet. “I don’t know,” he says eventually. “Maybe we can find those people Mason met, if they’re even still out there. But we can’t until the babies are older. We’ll have to hide for a while.” 

_Maybe forever_. Stiles sighs. “I guess we’ll never end up getting mated.” It’s weird, how the thought makes him sad. He’d wanted this to be official. To show the world Derek isn’t something to be afraid of, but someone worthy of love and family. 

“I hate that word,” Derek says. 

“What word? Mated?” 

“Yeah. I hate what they’ve done to it. It’s not supposed to be like this, Stiles. A mating isn’t supposed to be one person owning another. It’s not supposed to be a piece of paper. For werewolves, at least— for my parents— it was more than that.” 

“Your parents were a contract mating, weren’t they?” 

“Yeah, but it was different for them. They were the only two werewolf kids in Beacon Hills, so they knew they’d end up mated to each other. They grew up together, since the OSS didn’t really care about them. It was real. It wasn’t an alpha and an omega, it was mate and mate. What the OSS does, how it makes people live their lives…this isn’t how it should be.” 

Stiles blinks into the darkness. He feels a sort of sadness at Derek’s words. A yearning, maybe. “Tell me how it should be,” he says quietly. 

So Derek does. He talks for a long time, so long that the baby wakes up, kicks frantically, and goes back to sleep again, lulled by the words. Derek talks to him about growing up surrounded by love, believing in its power with simple certainty. He talks about laughter and dancing together in the living room of a home all their own, and refusing to care if their babies are alphas, betas, or omegas, because something so simple shouldn’t shape lives. He talks about rocking chairs on a porch when they’re ninety, and supporting each other no matter what, and cuddling and kissing and fighting about electric bills and feet tangled together. A world where fear is the enemy of everyone, not the weapon of the majority. He talks about it like it’s a world just beyond their reach, waiting to be seized. 

It’s the best bedtime story Stiles has ever heard.

Maybe because, when Derek says, it sounds like a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: The return to Beacon Hills, a reunion, and the rescue!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that this took so long!  
> No trigger warning for this chapter.

They spend another day waiting in the apartment until the cars come in late afternoon. They’re expecting the knock but it makes everyone jump, and Derek approaches the door carefully before looking through the peephole. 

“It’s Parrish,” he says curtly, opening the door to admit one of Beacon Hills’ finest. Stiles has known Jordan Parrish for years now. His little sister is an omega. It makes sense that John would trust him with this. 

“Who’s with you?” Derek asks as Jordan steps inside. 

“Cassie. She’s waiting at the cars.” Jordan looks around the room, tallying. “We can put three in each backseat and one in each trunk if we have to.” 

Scott is going separately, in his own car, so that works out. “Alright. Let’s head.” 

Stiles gets into Jordan’s car with Erica and Boyd and Derek in the trunk. Liam volunteers to ride trunk in the other car, with Kira, Mason, and Isaac in the backseat. 

“If we get stopped, I say we found you and are taking you to OSS headquarters,” Jordan tells them. “Just try and keep your heads down once we get past the town line.” 

“Okay.” Stiles meets his gaze in the mirror. “Thanks for doing this, Jordan.” 

Jordan studies him for a second, then nods. “You’re a good kid,” he says. “And take it from a cop. Some laws are worth breaking.” 

The car rumbles to life and Stiles tries to get comfortable. It’s a little cramped in the backseat and Erica is crammed against his bump. “It won’t stop kicking me,” she complains. 

“Hey, you’re used to it.” 

“Thanks for reminding me.” 

Stiles hesitates. Erica hasn’t said a word about her own baby since it was delivered, but he figures he should at least ask. “Did Jennifer ever tell you if your baby was adopted or not? It might be in the facility too.” 

Erica huffs. “It was adopted, that’s all I know. Look, I’m happy to help get Emma away from the OSS, and I’ll be all goo-goo-ga-ga over your kid when it’s born, but I don’t want mine back. I don’t even want to _think_ about it, okay? It was…I know what happened to me wasn’t its fault, but I never wanted to be pregnant. I had to sit there for nine months with it growing inside of me and never letting me forget what they did.” Her voice warbles a little and Boyd reaches over to grip her hand. “So…I just want to forget.” 

“Okay. Of course.” 

“Thanks.” Erica exchanges looks with Boyd. “I used to tell people that all the time,” she admits quietly. “That I never wanted to be pregnant. And my teachers would laugh and say I would feel differently when I felt my baby kicking. Like it was just a _given_ that I would have babies one day, no matter how I felt. I’ll kill myself before I let them get me pregnant again. I mean it.” 

Stiles tries to imagine having to carry another alpha’s child besides Derek, treated as nothing more than an incubator. Each life he gestates worth automatically more than his own in society’s eyes. “I understand that.” 

“But I’d rather kill _them._ ” Erica grins cockily. “God, I wish I was like Derek and Liam. Boyd and I overheard them talking yesterday. So does that mean your kid is a werewolf, too?” 

“We don’t know. Probably.” 

“Lucky little shit,” she mutters. “I’d kill to be born with that much power.” 

It’s a long drive back to Beacon Hills. The baby is kicking frantically, Erica is antsy, and Stiles keeps thinking he sees lighting chasing them down. “Here we go,” Jordan says finally, switching on the siren. “Heads down.” 

They obediently duck. Stiles counts his own heartbeats as the car accelerates. He can see flashing lights around him as they pass through the checkpoint. “We’re good,” Jordan says after a few minutes, relief obvious in his voice. “Cassie’s through, too. I’m taking you to the old Hale house and your dad will meet you there when he gets off shift.” 

“Go the long way, so we don’t pass the Argents, okay?” 

“No problem.” 

Stiles peeks through the window as they go through town. It’s the same old Beacon Hills. There’s the high school— all his fellow omegas must be mated by now. The OSS building. His house. The familiar sights are both comforting and terrifying now. 

There isn’t really a road to the Hale house so the car bumps over rutted earth for several minutes before Jordan finally pulls to a stop. He opens the door to let them out and Stiles rubs at his back, staring at the house. It’s a wreck, that’s for sure. Built miles away from everyone else and then torched when even that was too close. But it's going to be their home, at least for a little while. 

Cassie’s car pulls up next to them and the other omegas get out, looking a little rumpled but no worse for the wear. Scott is going home to see his mom, but he’ll come by later. 

_Step one complete_. 

Derek, let out of the trunk by Jordan, touches his shoulder. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m good.” Stiles leans into Derek’s touch. “Your son’s just been beating me up for the past two hours.” 

“Cut it out,” Derek says sternly to his belly. “You’re supposed to be Daddy’s bodyguard when I’m not around.” 

The baby just kicks again joyfully at the sound of Derek’s voice. Stiles groans, hiding a smile in Derek’s shoulder. “Carry me over the threshold?” 

“I may have superhuman strength, but I’m not the Hulk.” 

“Dick.” 

“Yep.” Derek nudges him. “C’mon. Let’s go claim the biggest bedroom before Erica and Boyd get it.” 

The house is just as it was when Derek had fled— which is to say, largely impersonal. Derek had still been sleeping in his childhood bedroom and most of the others are empty or filled with scorched mementoes he clearly couldn’t bear to throw away but needed to keep hidden. Stiles can hear the other omegas moving carefully up and down the steps, aware that they’re in a house that, for one resident at least, is full of ghosts. 

Stiles’s dad had stopped by to drop off blankets and air mattresses and Stiles sits in the middle of what used to be the master bedroom, watching Derek pump one of the mattresses up. “Man,” he says. “From the forest floor to a bathtub to an air mattress. It’s like our lives are _too_ luxurious, you know?” 

“Stop whining. I’ll buy you a bed.” Derek stops pumping and scowls when the air mattress just sags and deflates. “We’ve got plenty of money.” 

“We do? Did you knock off a bank?” 

“I cashed every paycheck the OSS gave me. Turns out you make bank beating up omegas in the government’s name.” 

“It’s the OSS’s money?” Stiles loves that. “We can buy stuff for the baby!” 

“I want to make him a crib myself. Take the whittling to the next level.” Derek snarls at the air mattress, nearly puncturing it with his claws. “What the hell? Do you need an engineering degree for this thing?” 

Stiles is about to save the poor mattress from a violent death when he hears the door downstairs creak open. “Stiles?” 

“Dad!” Stiles almost trips over his feet as he barrels towards the stairs. John stands at the door, still in uniform. His face lights up at the sight of his son. 

“I missed you,” he says hoarsely as Stiles wraps him in a hug. He leans back slightly to see the bruises fading on Stiles’s face and he grimaces. “Oh, Stiles.” 

“I missed you too.” 

The baby kicks between them. 

“You look…I tried to picture you his pregnant, but the image just wouldn’t come.” John stares at the curve of his belly. “You’re good? You’re happy?” 

“As long as I’m free, I’m great.” 

“Then let’s keep you that way.” John looks past him to the stairs where Derek and the omegas have congregated. “Well, this is quite the posse.” 

Stiles grins. “We prefer the term pack. This is Liam, Mason, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Kira you know.” 

John nods at them. “I talked to your parents,” he tells Kira. “They want to see you. They said they’ll do anything to help you all out.” 

“You think we’re good to stay here for a while?” 

“I think so. From what I can tell the OSS is starting to think you just disappeared into the mountains. I doubt they’ll keep searching for you much longer. As long as you don’t leave this property, and keep an eye out for trespassers, and don’t do anything stupid, you might sneak under the radar.” John scowls. “Speaking of stupid, what’s this about breaking into an OSS building and kidnapping a baby back?” 

“It’s my daughter,” Isaac says defensively. “They took her away. We have to get her before she dies in there.” 

“What do you know about the foster care facility, Dad?” 

“Well, we don’t have much to do with it. It’s a separate wing in the main OSS building. Scott’s mom has been there more than me— whenever they have a child in there they have nurses from the hospital come in for checkups.” 

“How often?” 

“I’m not sure.” 

Derek looks at Stiles. “You want to give Scott a call and see if he can get his mom over here?” 

# 

Melissa McCall has been Stiles’s substitute mother for years now, and she hugs him for so long he has to gently pat her back and remind her that he’s fine to get her to step away. “You boys are something else,” she says, giving him a weary look-over. “Please tell me you’re going to take it easy after this.” 

“We’ve got one more caper planned. But you can help!” Stiles gives her his most charming smile and tries not to be offended when she groans in utter despair. 

“What exactly do you want me to do?” 

“We need to get a baby out of OSS care. My dad said you go into the foster facility to give the babies check-ups?” 

Melissa grimaces. “We rotate in. It’s no one’s favorite job. They have staff in there twenty-four-seven, but nobody’s giving the babies the love and attention they need.” 

“What would be the procedure if you went in there and a baby was sick?” 

“We would transport it to the hospital, if need be, and treat it there. That’s happened a few times. There was a case of whooping cough, if I remember correctly, from a few years back, and a pretty nasty virus a while before that.” 

“Could you get on shift for the next checkup, and say that the baby is so sick she has to go to the hospital?” 

“I could. But what then? If she disappeared from the hospital, there would be a huge investigation. We have security cameras. The OSS would do everything to find her.” 

Stiles takes a breath. “Not if she dies in the hospital.” 

Melissa is quiet for a second. “What exactly…?” 

“You could give her some kind of medicine to make her sleep, right? There has to be a way to fake it convincingly enough to fool the OSS. They would want her cremated; that’s what they did with all the other babies who died in their care. Hear me out. You call time of death, show her to the OSS, and take her down to the morgue, where we meet you out-of-sight of the cameras and take her. That could work, right?” Stiles is practically begging. If this plan works, they can get Emma out of OSS custody without ever stepping foot in the OSS building themselves. 

“It would have to be late at night,” Melissa says slowly. “When fewer people are on shift…” 

“That’s fine. That’s _great_. I know I’m asking you to risk a lot, but…we have to save her, Mrs. McCall.” 

“Please,” Isaac says hoarsely. He’s been pacing nonstop, practically since they arrived, but he stops to stare imploringly at Mrs. McCall. “I need to get her back.” 

Melissa looks at John, then Scott, then around at all the omegas. “All right,” she says quietly. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

# 

Two hours later Derek huffs in utter frustration. “Stiles, if you don’t stop kicking me, I’m making you sleep on the floor.” 

“You’re hogging the mattress, Gigantor.” 

“I’m taking up exactly as much as I need based on my body size. I figured it out mathematically.” 

Stiles snorts. “Something tells me this mattress wasn’t designed for a full-size werewolf and a third-trimester omega.” 

“Fine. I can go sleep on the couch downstairs…” 

“Leave and I’ll kill you.” 

Derek’s voice is smug. “Really? Even though I’m hogging the mattress?” 

“It’s just that you keep me nice and toasty in a house with no central heating.” Stiles yawns and wriggles a little tighter against Derek. “And you’re an a-plus snuggle buddy.” 

Derek rumbles in satisfaction and steals the covers. 

“You and Liam and Scott should go out and shift soon,” Stiles says after a few more minutes. “Maybe the next full moon.” 

“We don’t have any special connection to the full moon. That’s just a myth.” 

“It is? Shit. I should read up on my werewolf mythology before the baby comes.” 

“He might not be…” 

“He is, though.” Stiles squints up at Derek. “You can totally tell, can’t you?” 

Derek is silent for a minute. “Yeah,” he admits quietly. “I don’t know how I know, but I do. He’s a werewolf. I didn’t want to say anything before he was born.” 

“You know it doesn’t matter to me, right?” 

“You say that now, but…look, being a werewolf isn’t all super-strength and magic powers. It’s not just that he’ll always be an outcast, though that won’t be easy for him either. It can be hard, to keep yourself human and not give in to the wolf. You’re born fighting yourself. I don’t like thinking that he’ll inherit that from me.” 

Stiles shakes his head and puts a hand on Derek’s chest. “As long as he inherits your heart too, he’ll be fine.” 

“You have too much faith in me.” 

“I have exactly the right amount of faith in you, Der. Which is to say, _all_ my faith. You’ve earned it.” He kisses Derek lightly and snuggles back into the mattress. “Now stop keeping me awake. Don’t you know omegas need their beauty sleep?” 

“Ha,” Derek says. “Ow, Stiles. _Stop kicking me._ ” 

# 

Melissa calls to tell them she can get into the OSS building on Saturday. Isaac almost loses his mind with anxiety, soothed only when the Sherriff lugs over Stiles’s old baby stuff they can use for Emma. Isaac sets it all up for her in his room, handling the little basinet as tenderly as if it’s her. “If this doesn’t work, he’s going to lose his mind,” Derek says grimly later that night. 

It has to work. This house can’t handle another loss. 

After plenty of arguing, it’s decided that Stiles and Scott will be the ones going to the hospital to get Emma. Derek doesn’t like it, but his face is too well known, and Stiles and Scott are the only other people who know the hospital. Besides, if they’re noticed, Scott can just pretend he’s walking Stiles to the maternity wing. 

“No,” Derek says flatly after Stiles makes this argument to him for the seventy-fifth time. 

“Derek, we’re practically just walking in and out.” 

“Not without me you’re not.” 

“You know, we’re hardly the B Team here. I think we can pull off a baby snatch without your sage leadership.” 

“If I can’t go because I’d be recognized, neither can you. They’ve put your picture on the news too—” 

“Yeah, my pre-pregnancy picture. I look totally different now. I’m just an omega; nobody looks twice at me. But _you’re_ a liability.” 

Derek stays firm. “I’ll wait in the car.” 

“What would the point of that be? You need to stay here and keep Isaac from running after us. Look, if we get caught you can come explode the jail to get us out or whatever. But this is a two-man job and it goes to me and Scott.” 

Derek looks like he’s going to keep arguing, but then he changes his mind. “Fine,” he says gruffly. “But I want my objection on the record.” 

“It’s noted.” Stiles doesn’t _totally_ trust Derek’s conciliation, but the next two days are spent going over the plan with Scott and Melissa, so he doesn’t have time to worry about it. Derek stays a little sulky right up until the day of the rescue and lectures Stiles about everything from good cover stories to sneaky tip-toeing. 

“And if you have even the _slightest_ feeling that something’s wrong, get out of there,” Derek says sternly as he walks Stiles out to the car. 

“Don’t be such a worry-wolf. We’ve got this.” Stiles looks behind him to where Isaac is waiting, arms crossed over his chest and bottom lip a scabbed mess from biting it. “We’ll get her for you, Isaac. I promise.” 

“You’d better,” he practically whispers. 

Stiles climbs into the front seat of the car next to Scott. Despite his bravado, he’s a little freaked out. Scott is the best bodyguard he could have next to Derek, but it’s still venturing away from the one safe place they’ve found. 

“Stilinski and McCall ride again,” Scott says as he starts up the car. “Why didn’t we ever pull cool vigilante shit like this back in the old days? Saving babies from the OSS, burning down prisons…” 

“Our lives were so boring. Hey, you pull your cards right on this you’ll have Isaac swooning into your arms with gratitude. You two would make a cute couple…” 

Scott looks horrified. “I’m not ready to be a father! Besides, I think Kira’s into me. She’s cool, right?” 

“She’s cool,” Stiles agrees. He catches a flash of something outside the window in the woods, and frowns, staring into the darkness. 

“What is it?” 

“I don’t…” Stiles sees it again and groans. He should have guessed. “Derek’s following us.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, he’s shifted and he’s running with the car right past the tree-line.” Stiles leans back into his seat, rolling his eyes so intensely it aches. “Overprotective little…” 

“Should I pull over?” 

“Nah, he thinks he’s being sneaky. Just get to the hospital.” 

Scott takes the entrance Melissa instructed, far from the main entrance. Stiles gets out of the car slowly, hindered by his huge stomach, and crosses his arms before glaring into the woods. “Derek Hale,” he says, not bothering to raise his voice. 

For a moment nothing happens, and then red eyes flash at him guiltily. 

“Get over here.” 

The huge wolf slinks out of the woods, head down. He comes to a stop at Stiles’s feet and whines defensively. 

“You’re supposed to be at home making sure Isaac doesn’t have a stress breakdown. What were you going to do? Run in there if you thought we were taking too long and start ripping out throats to cause a diversion?” 

Derek huffs, which Stiles is pretty sure is supposed to be a _yes_. 

“I’m a big boy, Der.” Stiles grimaces down at his stomach. “A _huge_ boy at the moment, but you know what I mean. This is a cakewalk compared to getting out of Eichen. It’s babytown frolics. Me and Scott have it under control.” 

Derek nuzzles his nose against Stiles’s belly and gives him literal puppy-dog eyes. 

“I know, worry-wolf, I know. But we’re going to be fine.” Stiles’s runs his hand over’s Derek’s fur, which somehow manages to be wiry and soft at the same time. “You’re waiting in the car, okay? The last thing we need is animal control getting called to come tranquilize a wolf in the NICU. If we’re not out in an hour, you’re allowed to worry.” 

Derek rolls his eyes, mouth set in a wolfy scowl. Stiles takes a step away and Derek follows obstinately. “ _Car,_ ” Stiles repeats sternly, pointing to the open door. Derek glares at him for another minute before stalking over, jumping into the car, and curling up balefully onto the seat. He shows his teeth to Stiles and Scott and makes a motion with his paw that might be an attempt at an obscene gesture. 

“Love you too,” Stiles mutters before shutting the door. 

“You totally just did a scary dad-voice there,” Scott says to him as they set off across the parking lot. 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah. That was, like, _go-to-your-room-I’m-not-mad-I’m-just-disappointed_ level parenting.” 

Stiles snorts. “Seeing as I haven’t had time to read a single parenting book yet I’ll take that as a very good sign.” 

He actually should read some parenting books soon. 

He puts it on his to-do list. 

Scott uses the spare pass his mom gave him to swipe into the back entrance. The hospital is quiet, visiting hours long since over, and they don’t encounter another soul as they make their way down the stairs to the morgue. 

“Okay,” Scott whispers, opening the door to a supply closet near the elevators and jamming a broom handle under the knob from the inside so nobody will be able to open it. “Now we wait.” 

It’s a tight fit, and with the door shut it’s a little difficult to breathe, but Stiles manages. They’re not sure how long it will take before Melissa comes. They figure the OSS will want to see the baby, but they have no idea when or if they’ll allow Melissa to take her down to the morgue. 

They don’t talk, too afraid of using up their limited oxygen, and Stiles is nearly asleep on his feet when Scott’s phone beeps. “She’s on her way,” Scott says in evident relief. “They bought it.” 

Minutes later they hear the elevator chime. There’s a knock on the supply closet door and they almost tumble out to see Melissa wheeling a tiny incubator. “I told them she must have had some kind of heart condition they never caught,” she says wryly. “They said there would be no need for an autopsy. Something tells me they’re already working to push the whole thing under the rug.” 

“But she’s okay?” 

“A little underweight, but yes. I put a sleeping agent into her IV. It should wear off within the hour.” Melissa lifts into the incubator and gently lifts out the sleeping baby. She really does look dead and Stiles’ breath catches as Melissa puts her into his arms. He can feel his own baby kicking sluggishly and he hugs Emma close, nearly overwhelmed. A part of him really hadn’t thought it would be this easy. 

“Now hurry up and get out of here, boys. I’ve got a whole lot of paperwork to go fake.” 

Stiles looks at her gratefully. “Do you remember when I was a kid and you would buy me Marvel comic books even though the OSS said omegas shouldn’t read anything containing violence?” 

She gives him a funny look. “Yes?” 

“I just wanted to remind you of that so you know I speak as a true expert: you are a superhero, Mrs. McCall. Thank you.” 

She shakes her head fondly. “Go get that little girl back to her daddy. Text me so I know you got home safe.” 

They leave the same way they came in, Emma a hidden little bundle in Stiles’s arms. Derek is waiting for them in the car. He’s shifted back and his scowling face relaxes into pure relief when he sees them. “Did it work?” he asks as he opens the door for them. 

Stiles flips back the blanket so Derek can see Emma’s face. “Flawlessly.” 

“I never doubted you.” He puts his arm around Stiles’s waist as Scott starts the car up. “But can we agree this is the last crime we commit with our son as a ride-along?” 

“Well, _you’re_ clearly not going to be the fun parent.” Stiles snuggles against him, filled with so much giddy relief he wants to jump up and down. 

Emma slowly starts to wake up as they drive back to the Hale house, letting out soft little whimpers in Stiles’s arms. Isaac is still waiting outside for them, sitting on the rotted steps with his hands around his knees. He stands when he sees the car and takes a few shaking steps forward. 

Stiles opens the car door and steps out with her. Isaac stumbles forward and reaches for his daughter. She finally opens her eyes just as Stiles settles her into Isaac’s arms and she peers blearily up at her father. 

“Emma,” Isaac whispers. 

She lets out a soft, peaceful sigh and closes her eyes again. She’s too young to smile but Stiles swears her face is alight with happiness as her dad finally holds her again. 

Derek puts his arm around Stiles again, hugging him close. They watch Isaac rock his baby and Stiles feels like, no matter what else happens in his life, this is one win he’ll remember forever. 

# 

“You’re not pissed at me for gate-crashing your great rescue, are you?” Derek asks forty-five minutes later as they cram back into their air mattress together. Isaac is currently tucking Emma into bed and Stiles can hear the softest strains of a lullaby drifting through the walls. 

“Nah, it was my fault for thinking you’d actually stay home. I should know better than to ask you not to be an overprotective alpha-wolf. Would you ask the sun not to shine? The waves not to crash upon the shore?” 

Derek snorts. “You’re not funny.” 

“Good thing you only like me for my looks.” Stiles yawns. He’s tired, but he still feels too hyped-up to sleep. “But seriously…this has to be the last daring rescue. We’re a pack now. We have to think about what’s best for everyone, not just one person.” 

“We can do both.” 

“Not really. The only reason we can stay here is because the OSS has no clue where we are. If one of us gets captured, everyone else needs to _run_. I wouldn’t put it past the OSS to torture us to try and figure out where everyone else is hiding.” 

Derek is silent for a second. “Stiles, if they took you again, I would get you back. I couldn’t just shrug my shoulder and say, _oh well, it was fun while it lasted._ I don’t care how risky it would be. There’s nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice to save you.” 

“You promised,” Stiles says quietly. “Remember?” 

Derek sighs. “I was hoping you were too heat-crazy to remember that.” 

“No luck. I don’t want our son growing up under their thumb, Der. We need to put the kids first.” 

“Let’s not talk about this tonight.” Derek has his hands on Stiles’s belly and he rubs a circle almost unconsciously. “We’ll just agree that nobody gets caught by the OSS. Then it’s a nonstarter. Deal?” 

Stiles is in no mood to think about capture and loss and sacrifice tonight anyway. “Deal.” 

“Good.” Derek kisses his neck. “Now go to bed. Omegas need their beauty sleep, you know.” 

# 

After Emma comes home there’s a feeling of peace that settles over the whole house. They’re far enough away from society to feel safe, but with the house full and frequent visits from the Sherriff and the McCalls they’re never alone. Emma’s a generally chill baby and the pack take turns walking her up and down the steps when she gets fussy at night, quickly lulling her back to sleep. 

Kira’s dad swipes some heat control pills from the nurse at school and distributes them so the omegas can start regulating their cycles again. Kira, Isaac, Liam, and Mason take them gratefully but Erica and Boyd decide to go through a heat together. Stiles can hear them through the walls, alternatively giggling and moaning and creaking the bed, spitting in the face of claims that only an alpha or beta can satisfy an omega in heat. 

Derek teaches Liam how to shift and takes him and Scott out into the woods. They spend so long out there that when Derek comes back he’s still a little feral. He nuzzles against Stiles, lips trailing all over his belly, mumbling _mine_ and _mate_ and _pup_ and _pack_ in satisfied little purrs. 

The next day he disappears for a few hours and comes back with John’s truck full of baby stuff— bouncers and toys and a spare cradle in case Derek doesn’t finish his handmade one in time. “Where did you get all this?” Stiles asks in amazement as he helps unload it. 

“I went to the next town over so I wouldn’t be recognized.” 

“How much did this cost?” 

Derek coughs a little and walks inside the house with a 200-pack of diapers hiding his face. 

Stiles chases after him. “Derek? Did you _steal_ every earthly possession we’re going to give to our child?” 

“I… maybe broke into a Sam’s Club warehouse. It’s not like they’ll miss it. It was safer than going into a store.” 

“I thought we had money.” 

“We do, but I prefer to save for a rainy day.” Derek drops down next to the half-finished wooden cradle and grabs his tools pointedly. “I’m kind of working against a deadline here, so…” 

Stiles snorts and sits down next to him. “That was very brave, Derek. You’re going to be a good dad.” 

“Are you being sarcastic?” 

“Nah, Thelma. I just wish you’d taken me along as your Louise. He’s being born a fugitive, so why shouldn’t he play with pilfered toys?” 

Derek looks smug. “I would have gotten you a real bed, but I didn’t have any way to get it home.” 

“We’ll get there someday.” Stiles yawns and gets comfortable so he can watch Derek work. He gets all sweaty, muscles rippling as he carefully carves out a safe place for their baby to sleep. Best view in town. 

That night John comes over with a rented movie and some popcorn, which they watch on the television Derek had also grabbed that morning. Stiles sits with Derek on one side of him and his dad on the other, Scott cuddled up next to Kira, Isaac holding Emma, and everyone else crammed into the room to watch happily. As Stiles looks around the room he feels total, complete contentment. All his life he’s had to compartmentalize: he had his dad at home, Scott at school, and Derek for a few stolen hours every week. But now everybody he loves is in one room. For the first time since he can remember, he truly feels like part of a real, whole family. 

Derek is engrossed in the movie but he feels Stiles’s eyes on him and looks down, grinning. He kisses the top of Stiles’s head, grabs a handful of popcorn, and turns back to the screen, warm hand right on the spot where the baby is kicking. 

_Perfection._

# 

_Jennifer leans over him, pinning him to the table with one hand. “Well, well. Nice to see you again, little bitch.”_

 _Stiles groans and tries to struggle up, but she’s too strong. “You’re dead,” he gasps. “Derek killed you. You’re not real…”_

 _

“Oh, you stupid, stupid little omega whore. You’re still in Eichen, Stiles. You never got out. You really think Derek came back for you? Why would he even bother?” 

Stiles tries to kick her but she grabs his foot and twists it, forcing his legs open. “You’re one fucked-up omega, sweetie. I think it’s time someone took a look inside of you to see just what went wrong.” She holds up a knife and turns it so it glints in the harsh light of the room. “I think I’ll take you apart and then put you back together, piece by piece, to see if we can make a real boy out of you. Or maybe a real girl, hm? Alphas love a good soft girl-cunt.” She slices between his thighs and pain licks through him like fire, burning him like he thought it had burned her, searing him away to nothing…

_

“Stiles. Stiles, baby, wake up. Open your eyes.” 

“ _She’s killing me…_ ” 

“Stiles, there’s nobody else here. It’s just me. Wake up. You’re safe now, you’re so safe. Nobody’s hurting you. I’m right here.” 

Stiles gasps himself awake and finds himself fighting Derek’s gentle hands. For a second he’s confused— Jennifer’s not here, and he’s with Derek, but it still hurts so badly he almost can’t breathe. “Derek, I’m hurt— something’s wrong—” 

“Nothing’s wrong. You were dreaming.” 

“No, I— ” Stiles reaches down and touches blood on his thighs. His eyes bulge and he feels the tearing in his perineum, the sensitive new opening that means he’s gone into labor. 

He was still supposed to have a week. Melissa had agreed to perform a C-section right in the Hale House; she’s been stockpiling sedatives and scalpels and anything else they might need. They’d had a _plan_. 

“Okay,” Derek whispers when Stiles holds up his bloody fingers wordlessly. “It’s okay, Stiles. We can stop it.” 

Stiles shakes his head. Once the birth canal opens there’s no stopping labor. “Derek, this is it. This is happening _tonight_.” 

“But we’re not…I didn’t even finish the cradle yet.” 

“ _That’s hardly our biggest problem right now!_ ” Stiles feels the first contraction hit and he reaches for Derek’s hand. He’s _scared_. He knows his body is made for this, but he’s heard all the horror stories. 

Derek sees the fear in his eyes and nods briskly, trying to hide his own obvious terror. “Okay. We’ve got this, Stiles. Everything’s going to be all right. I delivered Emma, didn’t I? Just listen to my voice. We’ll get him out together.” 

Stiles puffs through the end of the contraction. “Hold my hand,” he wheezes. 

Derek props him up, Stiles’s head against his chest, and grips his hand tightly. “You’re already doing it,” he murmurs. “Breathe with me, in and out. Everything’s going to be okay.” 

Stiles nods. He lays there with Derek until the next contraction hits and then he rides it out, hand tightly squeezing Derek’s, while they breathe together, in and out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: BABY.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, this chapter actually went up in a decent timeframe! Fingers crossed this trend continues and I can get the next chapter up Friday.  
> No trigger warning for this chapter (enjoy these days, they're coming to an end), but there is a mildly intense birthing scene at the beginning

Stiles has always kind of prided himself on his ability to withstand physical pain. Once when he was a kid he’d fallen out of a tree he’d been climbing with Scott— just _whump_ onto the ground from fifteen feet up, landing hard on his arm. Scott had jumped out of the tree and ran for his mom, already bawling, but Stiles just sat there, cradling his injured arm like a statue. At the hospital the doctor said he’d never seen an omega who didn’t cry from a broken arm before, shooting a disapproving look at little Alpha Scott, who was still clinging to Melissa’s arm and sniffling. 

Because Stiles was incredibly clumsy he’d ended up in that doctor’s office a few more times over the years, and no matter how badly it hurt, he never let a single tear fall. 

Maybe it’s not that he can take pain well. Maybe it’s just that he hates crying; hates feeling weak. 

He’s crying now. 

Because, God, this really _fucking_ hurts. This is the absolute worst. It just doesn’t _stop_. His body is trying to turn itself inside out. It’s ripping and changing and _breaking_ and he’s never wanted to be an omega less than right now. 

Derek can’t take this pain so Stiles just rides it, reaching for a hand to pulverize whenever a contraction hits. Usually Derek’s, but eventually everyone ends up in the room, trying to help. He hears Derek order someone to call Melissa pretty early on and soon enough she’s there with her cool hands and calm voice. She tells him he isn’t going to die. He isn’t sure he believes her. 

“You can do it,” Isaac tells him softly at one point, patiently taking his turn at having his hand crushed. “I know how hard it is. I remember. But when it’s over, you get to keep him. Think about that. Nobody’s taking him away now.” 

Stiles nods and tries to focus on that as he pushes. Neither Jennifer nor Kate Argent is here now. It’s just him and his pack and his baby. He just has to get through. He’s gotten through worse, for far smaller prizes. 

He can see through the window the horizon start to turn pink. Melissa crouches by the foot of the bed, telling him how well he’s doing, how close he is. Derek mumbles nonsense to him, rubbing at his shoulders. He feels his fingers twisting around the covers of the mattress, needing an anchor as the pain tosses him around. He shudders and gives another push on Melissa’s directive, dimly noting when it’s through that it must have been a good one, since he definitely feels better after it. 

Some complete idiot must have brought Emma into the room, because he can hear her crying. She shouldn’t be in here for this. “Isaac, take her out,” he mumbles, closing his eyes to enjoy a moment free of a contraction. He’s already tensing for the next one, but this is an okay moment, all the pressure suddenly gone. 

“Stiles.” Derek grips him tightly. “Oh my God, Stiles. You did it. Look.” 

Stiles frowns and cracks open his eyes. It takes him a second to actually get what it is he’s seeing. Melissa is holding the baby whose screams he had mistaken for Emma’s. He’s so little, covered in blood and fluid, kicking his little feet wildly. The cord connecting him to Stiles trembles as he thrashes in her arms. 

That’s his son. He’s _out_. 

“Lucky?” he whispers, half-expecting to feel the usual kick in his stomach he gets whenever he talks to the baby. 

Melissa looks at him. Her eyes are glistening, but she’s grinning so broadly it makes her forehead a mass of wrinkles. “If you name him that, I’ll kill you.” 

“Is he okay?” 

“He’s perfect.” Melissa cuts the cord neatly and swaddles him. “Here you go, honey.” 

Stiles’s hands shake as he takes the baby. His face is all puckered, like life has already given him lemons and they were far too sour for his liking, but when Stiles rocks him he slowly settles into hiccups. As Stiles stares at him, entranced, his eyes squint open. They’re a cloudy green, probably going to settle someday into Derek’s hazel. He’s completely bald and his nose is a little squished. He’s so perfect it knocks the breath out of Stiles’s chest. 

He looks behind him to Derek. “Derek,” he says, totally at a loss for words. 

“I know.” Derek’s eyes shine down at his son. “I know.” 

“We _did this_.” 

“Thanks for the partial credit. But I’m giving most of the thanks to you.” Derek grins at him, both arms around him so it’s like they’re holding the baby together. “He’s amazing, Stiles. I love him so much. I love _you_ so much.” 

“I know.” Stiles looks at the baby and kind of laughs. He’s a real person. This is _nuts_. “I love you too.” 

The baby hiccups, scrunching up his little shoulders as he tries his find his way back to a familiar position. Stiles laughs at him again and cuddles him, thinking back on everything he’s ever read about parent-child bonding after birth. Stupid. The bond is already here. 

Stiles counts fingers and toes, still a little flabbergasted just at the sheer miracle of his being, and then freezes. He’s never been good at this sort of thing, especially with young kids. “Is he…can you tell his gender?” 

Derek hesitates. He reaches out to take the baby, as if he wants to hug him close before he says it. “He’s an omega, Stiles.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure.” Derek looks to Melissa, who nods as well, face a little serious now. 

Stiles nods. “Okay.” And it is. It’s fine. He’s not going to let his son go through what he did. His son will never be ashamed of his gender, because they’re going to find a better place for him, where it doesn’t matter. “And were you right, Der? Is he a werewolf?” 

Derek flashes red eyes at the baby and grins. “Yep. He just flashed back at me.” 

“He can already do that!?” Stiles reaches for the baby again and rocks him against his chest. “You’ve got Papa’s superpowers!” he tells the baby, who yawns in his arms. “Oh, come on. You can’t _possibly_ want to go to sleep right now, buddy!” 

“He had a long night too, you know,” Melissa says mildly, stripping off her rubber gloves. “I wish I could weigh him for you guys, but how about I stick around for a while? Make sure everything’s good?” 

“Yeah.” Stiles looks up from the baby again, surprised to find the room emptied. “Where did everyone go?” 

“They’re waiting outside. I told them they were crowding you.” Derek is stroking the baby’s head, smiling dopily at him. 

“Even my dad? Wait, did anyone call my dad?” 

Derek winces. “Um. I…maybe forgot to delegate that.” 

Stiles cracks up. The baby startles at the noise, making a small sound of displeasure before shutting his eyes again. “Okay,” he says when he’s calmed down. “I get to make the phone call. This is going to rock his world.” 

# 

The baby barely gets the sleep he wants, but he’s a good sport as everyone takes turns saying hello to him. John breaks some laws regarding improper use of siren in his efforts to make it, but make it he does, and Stiles notes him wiping away some tears as he holds his grandson. 

Finally the baby’s patience snaps and he cries loudly until the room is clear of everyone but his parents. Stiles and Derek snuggle onto the mattress together— someone had sneakily changed the sheets on them at some point— and just kind of stare at their son. 

“It’s just so weird how _real_ he is,” Stiles says. 

“Yeah. And how little.” 

“He felt huge when he was in here. But you’re right, he’s such a tiny guy. I’m afraid to stop holding him.” 

“Is he officially Leo?” 

Stiles thinks about it for a second. Leo still feels right, and he likes the idea that his son was born already named. It’s like coming into the world with a piece of armor, an identity all his own. “Yeah. Is that good?” 

“It’s great. Middle name?” 

Stiles considers, but nothing jumps out. “You pick.” 

Derek watches Leo drift off to sleep. “Hayden,” he says quietly. “After one of my little brothers. My other omega sibling.” 

Stiles nods. “Leo Hayden Hale,” he says. “It’s a good thing Kate isn’t getting him, because Leo Hayden Argent all have two syllables, and that would be a _ridiculous_ name.” 

Derek snorts at him. “Leo Hayden Hale,” he repeats. “We can name him Leo Hayden Stilinski, if you want. I know omegas aren’t allowed to keep their unmated last names, but it’s not like the OSS has anything to do with this.” 

“Hm.” Stiles catches a yawn from Leo. “I guess we don’t really have to make a firm decision right now. There’s no birth certificate. And it’s not like we’re going to be using his full name to yell at him in the coming weeks.” 

“ _Leo Hayden Stilinski, go to your room_ does sound pretty stern” 

“Yeah, and Leo Hayden Hale sounds like a pro soccer player. He’d never take us seriously.” 

“We’ll sleep on it.” Derek suddenly looks a little pouty. “Speaking of, I still have a day’s worth of work on the cradle.” 

“Hey, he insisted on coming early. He can spend a few night in the inferior cradle.” Stiles coos down at Leo, now sound asleep. “Aww, or you can sleep right here, Leo. You can use Daddy as a pillow and then Daddy can use Papa as a pillow. Isn’t family wonderful?” 

“Your reasoning is wrong, but your conclusion is right.” Derek tips up Stiles’s chin so he can give him a long, proper kiss. “Family is the best,” he says softly. 

Stiles grins. He leans against Derek and watches their baby sleep for a long time, barely even able to remember everything that almost kept them from this. 

# 

Derek stays awake for a while after Stiles falls asleep. He can’t stop getting up to look at the baby, sleeping fitfully in the cradle. Even though he can hear the heartbeat, could recognize it from a mile away, he just needs to see. 

A part of him still feels like he has all this by mistake. Like someone upstairs made a clerical error and he’s just waiting for them to notice and take it all away. After his family died, he accepted that he wasn’t supposed to have this kind of love again. He was supposed to be alone— too inhuman to be loved; too human not to be lonely. Suffering in exchange for superpowers. That was what the world wanted. He didn’t have a say. 

But now he has Stiles. And a _baby._ It doesn’t matter what the world thinks of him now; not when he feels like he has the whole world right here in this room. 

As Derek watches the baby’s mouth moves in his sleep. Derek imagines him smiling, talking someday, laughing at Stiles being goofy. Having a personality all his own. Loving Derek— calling him Papa and crawling into his arms when he gets scared at night. The thought of it, being loved so completely and uncomplicatedly, is overwhelming. 

After all those years where nobody in the world loved him, except maybe his sister, if she was even still alive. Now he gets to have _this._

He gives his son one final look and settles back on the mattress besides Stiles, who mumbles in his sleep and turns, seeking Derek’s warmth. Always loving him, too, in a way that is somehow just as uncomplicated. The only person who has _ever_ loved Derek where there was no obligation. 

Derek wraps his arms around his mate and closes his eyes, balancing his dreams of the next fifty years on the strength of this one night. It could all be taken away at any moment. He knows that. But right now he just breathes it in and lets himself believe that the love thick in this room is his to keep. 

# 

Stiles is so in love. 

He’s falls a little deeper in love every minute of every day with his son. Everything Leo does— cries, gurgles, wrinkles his nose, punches anyone holding him with his little baby fists— is positively enthralling. It’s all exhausting and hard and confusing and terrifying and amazing, and he knows he’s being a gross stereotype, walking on air and falling asleep sitting up with a smile on his face, but it doesn’t matter. He just loves Leo so much, more and more by the day. 

But he’s also so in love with Derek right now. Seeing how much Derek adores their son, how capably he rocks the little guy to sleep and how cheerfully he sings dumb songs as he changes diapers— it shows Stiles a whole new side of him. He’s everything an alpha should be: protective and firm while also being totally soft and loving. 

Stiles loses track of time and pretty much everything else that doesn’t have to do with Leo, and for several blissful days he doesn’t have a single thought about the OSS. He knows that the others are getting a little restless, ready to start looking for the people Liam had met or just set out in the hopes of finding the camps themselves. He’s of two minds about it. He doesn’t want to take his son out into the woods if they have no hope of a safe destination, but he’d commit mass murder before he let the OSS take over Leo’s life. 

About a week and a half after Leo’s birth Stiles wakes up in the early morning to hear Derek singing a song about Leo’s ten toes as he changes the baby’s diaper. His super-hearing makes him the first to wake up whenever Leo starts whimpering and Stiles feels a little guilty about how much sleep he’s getting in comparison with most omega parents out there. “Is he hungry?” he yawns, sitting up in bed. He hadn’t put on a t-shirt after feeding Leo last night so it’s all just hanging out. He scrunches up his hair with one hand and wipes unsuccessfully at the drool on his face. 

Derek looks over at him from the changing table and smirks. “Wow. Tell me, did you win first prize at the Class and Beauty Omega Pageant, or did someone sleep with the judges to knock you down to second?” 

“I regret the day I ever taught you what a joke was.” Stiles takes the baby from Derek and guides him to his recently-filled man-breasts. He doesn’t like them, but Leo’s a fan and Derek certainly doesn’t seem unappreciative, so he can put up with them for a few more months. He’s offered to feed Emma too, since Isaac’s milk had dried up in Eichen, but she won’t feed from anyone who isn’t Isaac and is making do with formula for now. “He’s been sleeping since three o’clock,” he says sleepily as Leo nurses. “That’s, like…wait, what time is it?” 

“Eight o’clock.” 

“Holy crap, five hours! Leo, you’re a tiny champion!” 

Leo finishes with breakfast and turns his head away pointedly, never one to put up with being fed a moment after he’s full. Stiles burps him, yawning again. “You have another five hours in you, buddy?” 

Stiles swears there’s a devilish look in his eyes as he bats his hands in the air, obviously more in the mood for playtime. Stiles grins and lets Leo grip his finger tightly. “Hey, we’re going to have to figure out a way to get him his shots eventually. I know werewolves have amazing germ-fighting powers, but I don’t want him getting whooping cough.” 

“Yeah, that’s a good point.” Derek sits on the mattress next to him. “We need to start thinking long-term. Eventually.” 

“Eventually,” Stiles agrees. 

“Liam’s been shifting and going out deep into the woods in the hopes of finding something. I’m more experienced in tracking and I know my way around, so I was thinking it might be a good idea for me to go out there and join him.” 

“Wow.” Stiles looks down at Leo, who’s utterly fascinated by the wrinkles around Stiles’s knuckle. The idea of actually finding someone or something out there is terrifying. What if it’s no better out there than here? What if his dad doesn’t come with them, or Scott, or anyone else he’s come to care about? 

But he has to do what’s best for this little guy, and he definitely know that what’s best for Leo isn’t hiding out here all his life. “I think that’s a good idea,” he tells Derek. “How deep into the woods are you going to go?” 

“I don’t know. I’ll see what trails I can pick up out there and we’ll see what happens.” 

Stiles nods and rests his head against Derek’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t it be crazy? Actually finding other people out there to be safe with forever?” 

“Too crazy. It kind of feels like a fool’s errand, honestly. But…” Derek shrugs down at Leo, who’s shifted his penetrating gaze over to his Papa. He smiles and softens his voice, making the idea of finding the camps sound as whimsical as a hero’s quest in a bedtime story. “We’ll put our noses to the ground and see what we find.” 

# 

Stiles thinks about broaching the topic of leaving with his dad a few times over the next week, but whenever John comes over to see Leo he’s so happy that Stiles is afraid of shattering the spell. Besides, Derek and Liam aren’t turning up anything in their tracking, so it’s a nonstarter for the moment. 

John keeps bringing gifts for the baby and shortly after one visit Stiles sits downstairs with Leo trying out a newborn play mat with a bunch of dangling toys Leo can bat at. He’s wholly unamused at them, far more interested in just staring around the room. “It’s fun!” Stiles tells him, shaking one of the toys. “See? You hit it and it swings! Don’t give me that look. Real talk, buddy, this is about the limit of your abilities right now.” 

“Look, one’s a bunny!” Derek says, joining Stiles in playing with the toy. “We love bunnies!” 

“Hey, big boys. You busy?” Erica stares down at them, Boyd and Isaac crowded close behind her. 

“We are, but we can squeeze you in.” 

“Thanks.” Erica sits, takes a swing at the dangling toys— they actually are sort of fun— and glances up at the others before speaking. “So we were thinking…you and Liam could use some help tracking, right?” 

Derek shrugs. “Well, sure. But it’s not something humans could really do. You wouldn’t be able to keep up.” 

“Yeah, we know. But if we were like you…we could help.” 

Derek’s expression turns to stone. “Yeah. _If_.” 

“We want the bite,” she says bluntly. “We’ve talked about it. Mason and Kira are out, but the three of us made up our minds.” 

“Erica, you don’t understand. It’s risky. I could kill you.” Derek frowns at Isaac. “You really want to risk that, Isaac? Leaving Emma right now?” 

Isaac’s lower lip is jutted out stubbornly. “Emma needs someone who can protect her. We’re not invincible out here. If the OSS comes, I have to be able to defend her.” 

Erica shakes her head. “You don’t understand, Derek. You’ve been strong all your life. You don’t know what it’s like to want to just… _fight_. We’ve been helpless for years and we’re tired of it.” 

“I’m not disputing the reasons you might want the bite, but listen to me. You. Could. _Die_. I’m not killing all three of you.” 

“We’ve been researching. There isn’t an actual case of a human dying from a werewolf bite anywhere out there. We think it’s just propaganda— something to keep everyone from trying to turn. Be honest, Derek, have you ever actually seen someone die from it?” 

Derek shifts uncomfortably. “No. But that doesn’t mean it’s not possible.” 

“They’re our bodies,” Erica says stubbornly. “I’ll go first and we’ll see if it works before you turn the others. If you refuse, we’ll ask Liam.” She turns her head. “Liam? You in?” 

The kid, sitting on the couch with Mason, looks startled. “Uh…” 

“No,” Derek says harshly. “He just started getting comfortable as a werewolf again. If it doesn’t work, he’s not living with that.” He stares at them for another few seconds. “I’ll do it. But I think you’re making a mistake.” 

“I don’t think we are,” Erica says just as severely, but Stiles sees her grip Boyd’s hand tightly, as if in fear. 

Leo whimpers at the sudden downturn in the room and Stiles picks up him. “Now?” he asks Erica a little coldly, rubbing a soothing circle on Leo’s back. “I’ll take the kids upstairs. They’re probably a little young for this.” 

Erica looks at Derek and nods. “Yeah. Now.” 

Stiles shifts Leo into the crook of his arm and reaches for Emma. “You’ll take care of her, right?” Isaac asks softly. “In case something happens?” 

Stiles nods. Isaac kisses her and hands her over, hands shaking a little. She’s a little fussy, which makes Leo a little fussy as Stiles carries them both upstairs, but when he gets to the master bedroom he rocks both of them until they’re quiet. 

He doesn’t blame Erica and Boyd and Isaac for wanting the bite. For Erica, he’s sure, it’s at least a bit about making herself undesirable to the OSS— no Alpha will want her now. Boyd is a bit more of an enigma, but Stiles has seen the way he looks at Erica, often taking on the sort of Alpha-role— that of the protector. He followed her to Eichen. He would do anything for her. 

And for Isaac— well, he’s his daughter’s first and last line of defense against the world. If Stiles didn’t have Derek, if it was just him to protect Leo, he would feel the same way. But he hates that it’s Derek who has to do this; Derek who will have to live with the guilt if it goes wrong. He’s glad he doesn’t have super hearing right now and can’t tell what’s going on downstairs. 

Emma falls asleep after a few minutes and Stiles puts her into Leo’s spare cradle before walking his son around the room, comforting them both. At this point werewolves are going to outnumber humans in his son’s life. Stiles wonders if it’ll be different now; if they’ll be some bond between Leo and the others. A real nature-forged pack. 

By the time Derek comes back upstairs Leo has fallen asleep too and Stiles has just put him into the handmade cradle Derek had finally finished. “They’re okay,” he says immediately. “Their moods might be a little unpredictable for the next few hours as they get used to it, so I suggested they stay in their rooms for the night. We can keep Emma in here.” 

Stiles is dizzy with relief. “You’re sure it took?” 

“Yeah.” Derek looks exhausted. “Who knows, they might be right about the whole propaganda thing. But I really don’t want to do that again.” 

“I guess it makes us a little stronger as a whole though. In case the OSS tries to arrest us, anyone who can shift is going to have an advantage.” 

“Maybe. And we could use the help trying to find a useful trail in the woods. But still…I’m glad it’s over.” He looks askance at Stiles. “It’s not something you want, right?” 

Stiles shakes his head. “If you’d asked me right after we got out of Eichen, I don’t know what I would have said. But…I don’t feel weak right now. I don’t feel like I need to change.” 

“Good.” Derek strips off his shirt. “Because of all the things I want to do to your body, transforming it is not one.” 

Stiles grins and loops his arms around Derek’s neck. “Care to elaborate?” 

“Probably not with the kids in the room.” 

“They’re sleeping. And I can be quiet.” 

Derek slips a hand inside Stiles’s sweatpants, prompting a surprised moan. “Ha. No, you can’t.” 

“Do that again. We’ll see how far we get before we wake one of them up.” 

Derek smirks and moves his hand to Stiles’s ass. “One of these days I’m really going to have to remind you what my knot feels like.” 

“Hey, man, carpe diem.” 

“Don’t you talk dirty to me.” Derek pushes a finger inside of him almost lazily and Stiles stifles his next moan with a kiss. They tumble onto the mattress and Derek fucks inside him with two fingers for a long time before he finally takes pity and jerks him off. Stiles returns the favor and it’s Derek’s rumbling groan of pleasure that finally wakes up the babies. 

“Tiny spoilsports,” Stiles grumbles. 

“Erica and Boyd owe us now. We’ll make them babysit and have a night to ourselves.” 

Stiles feels a thrill go through him at the thought. “Promise?” 

Derek gives him one more kiss before he gets up to get the babies. “Promise,” he says. 

# 

A week after Derek gives the omegas the bite Stiles sits outside with Leo, enjoying some fresh air. Scott’s with him, keeping an ear towards the road to make sure no cars are coming up this way— he’s here nearly every day, usually so Stiles can help him study for the GRE. He’d left high school to help break Stiles out of Eichen, and everyone had just assumed he’d started home-schooling after the bite. Now Melissa is finally cracking down on him actually finishing his education. 

But they usually end up just talking about Leo and Derek and Kira, who Scott has fallen head-over-heels for. She obviously likes him back, but Scott is constantly asking for advice on how to woo her. 

“Come on, man. Help me out here. How did Derek win you over?” 

Stiles shrugs, bouncing Leo on his lap. “Oh, you know, the usual. Chocolates, flowers, reciting poetry…” 

Scott perks up. “I know poetry.” 

“Really? What poetry do you know?” 

“I remember one poem from English class. The creepy one.” Scott scrunches up his face. “Ah… _quoth the Lorax, nevermore._. Is that right?” 

“Yes,” Stiles says seriously. “I’ve always considered 'The Lorax' to be Poe’s best work, next to ‘Horton Hears a Tell-Tale Heart.’” 

Scott looks despondent. “I don’t know, man. It was never supposed to be this hard. I was just supposed to pick an omega at random and contract with them. I never thought about actually having to make someone _love_ me.” 

“Aww, Scotty. You’re lovable.” Stiles hesitates. “But…we might not be sticking around here, you know. Kira’s probably going to go with us if we find the camps.” 

Scott looks at him like he’s an idiot. “I’m going too, dude.” 

“You are?” 

“Yeah. Of course I am. Look, I’m studying for this stupid test to make my mom happy, but there’s no way I’m staying behind. Hell, I’m Leo’s godfather; I’m obligated to go with him.” Scott grins and tickles the baby’s foot. “I’ve been asking Derek to take me out into the woods with him to help him track for days now, but he keeps putting me off.” 

“That’s because you’re a terrible tracker,” Derek says, strolling out of the woods. 

“I am not!” 

“Scott, my infant son would be able to pick up a trail faster than you. Speaking of…” Derek lifts Leo from Stiles’s lap, switching over into the gentle cadence he always uses with the baby. “Hi, buddy. I missed you. Are you having fun out here with Daddy?” He looks at Stiles. “Why are you out here? I thought you were worried about someone driving up this way and seeing you.” 

“Fresh air is good for him. And…I had the window upstairs open, and a bee flew in. I tried to kill it and it flew at me, so I grabbed him and ran. Now we’re just going to wait out here for a few years until it dies on its own.” Stiles shrugs at Leo. “Nature is all about compromise.” 

Derek snorts. “I’ll go kill it for you.” 

“I think I wounded it, so it should go quietly.” 

“I bet.” Derek gives Leo a kiss and hands him back to Stiles. “If you hear screaming, there’s a gun hidden under the second step.” 

“Wait, is there really?” 

“Yes. Also the third step. And behind the fireplace. I figured we might as well be prepared.” 

“Okay. If it stings you more than once I’ll come put you out of your misery.” 

“Thanks.” Derek gives him a kiss too and heads inside the house. 

“You guys are so domestic,” Scott smirks. 

“I know. It almost…well, a part of me doesn’t ever want to leave, you know? But there’s always a chance the OSS could find us. And I want Leo to have a real life.” Stiles sighs. The choice between staying and going hasn’t gotten any clearer in the past few days. Derek and Liam have been staying out longer and longer, slipping past the town line and into the more mountainous regions in the north, but so far they’ve only struck dirt. 

“It just feels like something has to happen soon,” Scott says. “I mean for all we know it might take years before we make contact out there with anyone…but the thought of you guys waiting here makes me all jittery.” 

“Yeah. But we’ve stayed hidden so far, right? I mean, short of the OSS somehow stumbling across us, what could go wrong?” 

“Knock on wood.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles is distracted by Leo adorably blowing a spit bubble and coos at him, tickling him under the chin to try and provoke his first smile. The wind blows a little colder and he shivers, standing to carry the baby inside for a nap. 

# 

The next morning Stiles wakes up early. He’s confused for a second, wondering why he’s awake when Leo isn’t crying, before he realizes that he’s hot. _Really_ hot. The dangers of cuddling with a werewolf all night. He tosses back the covers and rolls away from Derek, but he still feels all warm and clammy, so he slips out of bed and heads downstairs for a drink. 

He must have gotten up too fast, because his head swims as he makes his way down the stairs. He gets himself a bottle of water and sits at the table, massaging his forehead. Lack of sleep must be catching up to him. 

After a few minutes he can hear one of the babies fussing, and moments later that sets the other one off— thanks to his super-hearing, Leo always wakes up when Emma cries. Stiles sighs and tries to find the willpower to get up, but after a few moments the cries die down. A minute later the stairs creak and Derek walks into the kitchen shirtless, one baby in each arm like some sort of Alpha god. 

“Whoa, Derek.” Stiles fans himself. “Are you trying to send me into heat?” 

“Ha-ha. Emma needs a bottle.” 

“I’ll make it. Just give me a second.” 

Derek frowns at him. “You look hot.” 

Stiles tries for a leer. “Tell me more.” 

“No, seriously. Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m great. Just didn’t sleep well.” Stiles gets up too quickly again and grips the side of the table when the room spins. “Whoa.” 

Derek leans in and sniffs at his neck, making Stiles jump. “What are you doing, weirdo?” 

“I’m trying to smell if you’re sick. You have a fever, Stiles.” 

“Since when can you smell a fever? I didn’t realize being a werewolf made you a witch doctor.” Stiles tries to bat Derek away, alarmed when his arms feel like they’re filled with lead. “Dude, I’m fine. You know what they say, no sick days for daddies. Just gotta rub some dirt in it. Suck it up, cupcake. All that jazz.” 

“You’re not even making sense. I think you should go back up to bed.” 

Stiles swallows hard as the ground lurches beneath him. “I’ll…take a quick nap. Just so I feel a little more like myself. Don’t let me sleep through Leo’s next feeding, though, okay?” 

Derek’s look of mild concern turns to one of complete alarm as Stiles tries to take a step and has to grab the side of the table again. “Hey, easy. Stiles?” 

Stiles stares at him. There’s a pounding in his ears, so loud it hurts his entire body. “Derek?” he says slowly. He tries to take another step and it’s like his legs just give out. He crashes hard to the floor, dissolving into painful darkness, dimly aware that Leo has started to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: An unexpected illness has dire consequences.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, this chapter is going to be the shortest one yet!" I say as I start writing.  
> 8000 words later: WHAT HAVE I DONE.  
> If there are any doctors/med students/ etc. in the crowd who are like, "Nope, not how any of this works," forgive me! I'm largely a dummy about anything scientific.  
> Trigger warning in the end notes

He hadn’t been sick last night. Derek is sure of it. He’d been a little tired, yeah, and he’d complained of being chilled before bed. He’d been completely fine when he woke Leo up for a feeding around two a.m. Leo hadn’t latched— maybe he could smell the fever coming on— and Stiles had run downstairs for a bottle, totally fine. He’d even stayed up to pump a few bottles afterwards just to relieve the soreness in his chest. He hadn’t been sick. 

Now he is. 

Derek just can’t believe how fast it came on and took him under. His skin is so hot it hurts to touch and he hasn’t said a word since he collapsed, only breathes in huge, painful-sounding gasps. 

He carries Stiles upstairs, stopping to shout at Liam to call Melissa _now_. Stiles whimpers when Derek puts him down on the bed and curls into a ball. 

“Oh, fuck, baby.” Derek tries to stroke the hair away from his forehead but Stiles cringes away. 

“Derek? What’s going on?” Isaac leans into the bedroom holding the kids. 

“Stiles is sick. Keep the babies away; I don’t know if it’s contagious.” Derek turns back to Stiles. “I need a wet cloth or something.” 

“I’ll get it.” 

Derek puts his hand on Stiles’s cheek. He swears it’s even hotter than it was a minute ago. 

# 

Melissa takes Stiles’s temperature and goes white when she reads it. “How long has he been like this?” she snaps, briskly stripping off his sweatpants. 

“It just happened this morning.” 

Melissa parts Stiles’s legs, ignoring his half-present moan. “Shit!” 

“What is it?” 

“It’s his birthing canal. It got infected.” 

Derek stares. “But you stitched it the day Leo was born and said it was fine.” 

“Yes, but his body had to knit itself together over the past month, and if there was any bacteria that got trapped in there before I closed it it’s just been festering. About half of all male omegas have a certain enzyme in the blood that makes them more susceptible to bacterial infections when their immunity is down, like during childhood or right after giving birth. I tried to make everything as sterile as possible, but since he didn’t deliver in a hospital— ” 

“So what does he need? Antibiotics?” 

“We don’t have any way to get them for him. He needs serious treatment, an IV, constant monitoring...” 

“I’ll take him to the emergency room.” 

“Derek.” Melissa looks grave. “Infections like this have to be reported to the OSS by hospitals. They can’t test to see who has the enzyme in their blood, since it doesn’t react unless the bacteria is present, but they like to keep a record once they know. The OSS tracks what omegas are susceptible, so during their future pregnancies they can be given preventative care.” 

Derek stares at her. “So, what? If we take him to the emergency room the OSS will come and see it’s him?” 

“Yes. If you take him in under his own name, they’ll know right away. Even if you can somehow use a fake name, he’ll be put on a monitoring list. The OSS will want to question him about where he delivered, what his health history is, what Leo’s health has been like…” 

“But if we don’t...if we just keep him here…” Derek stares down at Stiles, who doesn’t seem to be listening to them. 

“Sometimes it can clear up on its own. I’ll see if I can get some doxycycline for him. You’ll have to try and keep the fever down. Get him to drink. And Derek, _keep the babies out_. Stiles’s fever is extremely contagious. It could kill an infant overnight. When did Leo nurse last?’ 

“Stiles gave him a pre-pumped bottle at around two a.m.” 

“When did he pump the bottle?” 

“Yesterday, right after Leo’s nighttime feeding.” 

“Was he fevered then?” 

“No!” 

“Are you sure? He would only be contagious if the fever had already started. If Leo has the same markers in his blood, he could be at risk.” 

“He wasn’t sick,” Derek says firmly. “I didn’t smell a fever. Leo wouldn’t nurse when we woke him up for his feeding; that must have been when the fever started and the milk was bad.” 

“Okay. Watch him carefully. It takes a while after infection for signs to show.” 

“How long does the fever last?” 

“It can be days before it his system fights off the infection. Monitoring his fever is crucial.” 

Derek nods, feeling sick himself. “Okay. But if the time comes when we need to take him in…you have to tell me.” 

“I will.” 

Derek picks up the washcloth Isaac had brought him and wipes off Stiles’s forehead again. It strikes him that Stiles might not _want_ to go to the emergency room, if it comes to that. He might rather die here than risk being transferred back into OSS custody. 

He thinks of that stupid fucking promise he’d made. And what Stiles had said before the baby was born, that they would all have to run if one person got captured. If Stiles does have to go back to the OSS, he would want Derek to take Leo and the pack and make a run for it, not try another rescue. 

He can’t. 

He could give Stiles the bite— but his body is so weak that if there’s any truth to the idea that the bite can kill Derek has no doubt it will kill Stiles. 

“Don’t do this to me, Stiles,” he mutters, holding the wet cloth against Stiles’s neck. This isn’t fair. A _fever_ , after everything? That’s what’s going to end this for them? 

Stiles keeps his eyes closed. Derek can’t tell if he’s sleeping or just totally out of it, but he focuses on the beat of Stiles’s heart, still strong for the moment. “You’re going to be okay,” he says firmly, almost sternly, as if he’s giving marching orders to that heartbeat. “You’re going to be just fine.” 

# 

Melissa leaves him a thermometer to keep monitoring Stiles’s fever, and Derek tracks it over the day. It just keeps climbing. 104.2. 104.5. 104.8. 105.1. 

Derek tries to get him to drink, stroking his throat to make him swallow, but it just makes him choke. He can hear Leo crying from the other side of the house, unable to understand why his parents are completely ignoring him. Derek can’t risk infecting him. Werewolves are generally insusceptible from illness, but not when they’re babies. It takes years to build up immunity and Derek remembers his own childhood illnesses, how he felt like something rabid as the fevers licked through him. 

It’s not until the afternoon and a temperature reading of 105.3 that Stiles cracks open his eyes. “Derek?” he says blearily. 

Derek grabs his hand. “Yeah, Stiles. I’m here.” 

Stiles’s lips are parted. He stares at the ceiling, gaze roaming aimlessly. “Derek, don’t let them take the baby.” 

Derek stares at him. 

“They want to cut me open. They’re going to take him away. Don’t let them do it.” Tears slip down Stiles’s cheeks. “Derek, please. Please stop them.” 

“Stiles, nobody’s taking the baby. He’s already here, remember?” 

Stiles hand forms a loose fist and he strikes at his stomach, as if he’s trying to feel if there’s anything there. He cries out and arches off the bed. “Bring him back!” 

“He’s _here_ , Stiles. I can’t bring him to you right now, but he’s just in the other room, you just saw him this morning.” 

“ _You’re lying to me_. Why’d they take him, I was being good…” Stiles’s words are almost unintelligible. His heartrate stutters and speeds and Derek is desperate. He tries to sponge off Stiles’s cheeks, feeling the heat of his skin through the washcloth. 

“Stiles, I swear. We kept him safe. Don’t you remember my promise? I told you I would keep him safe, no matter what. How could I be here with you if they’d taken him? I swore I would put him first.” Derek tries to hush him. “Shh, baby. Everything’s all right. He’s here. Nobody will ever take him away. You’re going to see his first smile, and his first step, and his first word. I promise you, Stiles.” 

Stiles stops crying and Derek holds his breath. After a few seconds Stiles looks over at him blankly. “Dad?” he says, and shuts his eyes again. 

# 

Stiles melts from one nightmare to the next. 

Jennifer is almost always there. Either he’s in Eichen and she’s holding him down, or he’s in the Hale House and she’s standing in the corner mocking him. _Are you sick, omega? Doesn’t your alpha take care of you?_

“Go away,” he mumbles. 

_Someone has to look after you. Poor little thing. You’re going to die now._

“No...” 

_Why? Your son needs a real omega parent. Don’t you want him to be a good omega, so he doesn’t end up like you? You and your mother were both whores who didn’t want to accept their places in life, and look what’s happened to you. We tried to save you, you know, but you just had to run. You might be lost to us. But we’ll still have your son._

“You can’t take him!” 

_Of course we can. He was always going to be ours._ Her voice begins to unravel. _Don’t you want to say goodbye, sweetie?_

He bobs in darkness and then the room re-forms. His baby is crying and for a second his heart leaps. _Leo_. Remembering his name is such a relief. “Derek?” he says, looking around, expecting to see Derek holding their son. 

Instead he sees Kate Argent. She’s got Leo and walks him around the room. _I love my little baby_. 

Leo screams and thrashes in her arms. Stiles feels so hot and thinks she must be setting a fire somehow, trying to kill Leo just like all the other Hales. “You’re burning him!” 

_Mm. Maybe we should cool him down._ She walks over to a basin of water and plunges Leo inside, holding him down. Stiles is there trying to pull him out. _Stop, omega_ , she orders, and he can’t move. He can see Leo struggling and wailing under the water for an eternity before he finally goes limp. _There_ , Kate says in satisfaction, letting go as the bubbles of Leo’s last screams pop on the surface of the water. _That’s much better._

She smiles at Stiles and strokes his forehead with her wet hands. He can feel the water running into his ears and he tries to fight her off. From far away he thinks he hears Derek’s voice: _Shh, Stiles, I’m just trying to bring down the fever._

“You killed him,” he moans, still struggling against Kate. 

_Oh, it’s not so bad. He was just an omega. And he would have been a monster. You can have better children now_. She kisses him. Her tongue is wet and slimy in his mouth and he gags on it. He hears Derek again, _swallow, Stiles_ , but Derek isn’t here; she must be tricking him. 

He needs to get to his baby. He shoves Kate and tries to pull Leo out of the water but his hands can’t get ahold of him. When the room fades to darkness it’s such a relief, but then he opens his eyes and Kate is drowning him too, holding him under, hand tight around his neck… 

He chokes and sputters and sees his mom. They’re in a dark room and she’s smiling at him. _Baby, I missed you._

“Mom?” His voice cracks. “Am I dead?” 

_Shh, it’s okay_. 

“I don’t want to be dead. I have to take care of Leo.” 

Her eyes twinkle at him. _Why don’t you write a list for Santa and ask him to make you all better?_

He loses track of himself for a while and the next time he knows anything he’s in the woods. It’s cool here. Derek is sitting on a tree stump, his back to Stiles. 

“Derek?” 

He doesn’t answer. 

“Derek, can you hear me?” 

Derek stands and starts to walk away. The woods go dark. 

“Derek?” Stiles is crying. “Derek!” 

# 

“I’m here,” Derek pleads. “I’m right here, Stiles.” 

“Derek,” Stiles moans again. His eyes are closed, glued shut with tears. It’s the third day of his fever. He’s been stuck at 105.7 degrees since the first night but Derek swears he keeps getting worse. He won’t drink or swallow the pills Melissa brought and fights Derek every time he tries to wipe his forehead. When Derek tried to get him into the bathtub he’d fought him so ferociously Derek had to take him out for fear he’d go into a seizure or something. 

Melissa keeps coming by to check on him, face graver at each visit. “If he’s not better by tomorrow, you have to take him in,” she tells Derek quietly at the last check-up. 

Derek wants to ask Stiles if that’s what he wants, but Stiles hasn’t been actually present since he first collapsed. He’s constantly moaning gibberish, talking to people Derek can’t see. Derek has never seen anyone this sick before. He can’t believe he didn’t catch it sooner; didn’t smell it festering in his body. 

If Stiles had just delivered in a hospital this never would have happened. But, thanks to Derek, he gave birth in the middle of the woods in a broken-down house where only bad things have ever happened. 

There’s a knock on the door and Scott leans his head in, holding an envelope. “Hey. Danny gave me these.” 

Derek takes it. He’d gotten Scott to call Stiles’s friend Danny for another set of fake IDs, one for him and one for Stiles, in case they do end up needing to go to the hospital. “Thanks.” 

“How’s he doing?” 

“Bad.” Derek is too exhausted to say any more, but Scott just nods. He can smell it. 

“So if he’s no better, you’re going in tomorrow?” 

“Yeah. I found an Urgent Care in the next town over. They’ll probably just transfer him right to the ER, but I figured it might keep him from being identified for a little while.” 

“If they do identify him…what do you want us to do?” 

Derek stares at Stiles for a while before answering. “If we’re not back by night, take the kids and get out of town. Into the woods if you can, or maybe to Liam’s old hometown, in case his friends are still there. Don’t tell me where. I don’t know what they’ll do to try and make me tell them where the other omegas are.” 

“So you’re going to stay with Stiles? Let the OSS take you too?” Scott’s voice is gentle. “He would want you to be with Leo, Derek.” 

“I’m not just going to drop him at the door and run.” 

“Maybe I could take him. I’m not wanted like you are. I could just say I found him in the woods.” Scott waits. “I know you want to stay with him, but…” 

“I know.” Derek rests his head in his hands. He’s so tired. He doesn’t want to leave his son, but it shouldn’t be Stiles going back to the OSS. He wishes he could take it for him, so Stiles and Leo could run together, but he can’t, and he doesn’t know what to do. 

“Swallow,” he orders Stiles, taking his jaw in hand and putting another pill into his mouth. “Now, Stiles.” 

Stiles chokes on it and Derek puts his hand over his mouth so he can’t spit it out. “Swallow,” he says again, growling it like an alpha should. He feels Stiles’s throat contracting and a second later he relaxes. Derek pokes inside his mouth and exhales with relief. That’s the first pill he’s managed to get down. 

“I’ll come by tomorrow,” Scott tells him. “Okay?” 

Derek nods. Scott leans in to squeeze Stiles’s hand— “Feel better, buddy”— and leaves. Derek can hear Leo crying again, Isaac trying and failing to soothe him. The sound mixes with Stiles’s pained gasps and claws at Derek’s mind. 

# 

Derek opens his eyes and frowns. Something’s wrong. Had he fallen asleep? The last thing he remembers is trying to make Stiles gag down another pill, then putting he head down on the mattress just to get a quick rest…but he hasn’t been able to fall all the way asleep since Stiles got sick. A glance outside confirms that the sun is up. 

_Shit_. He slept through the night. He hadn’t gotten any more medicine in Stiles, or put fresh washcloths on his forehead— 

He puts the back of his hand on Stiles’s forehead, expecting it to sear, but instead it feels fractionally cooler. His breath catches and he grabs the thermometer, shoving it under Stiles’s tongue. When it beeps he reads 102.2. 

Relief swamps him. “Stiles?” he asks softly. “Can you hear me?” 

Stiles wrinkles his nose. His eyes flutter open and he blinks at Derek. “Der?” he yawns. 

“Do you know where you are?” 

“I’m home, right?” Stiles winces when he tries to sit up. “Ow. I feel…am I sick? I feel really bad.” 

Derek almost laughs. “Believe it or not, you’re getting better.” 

“Aww. Were you taking care of me, Florence Nighting-wolf?” Stiles grimaces. “That was bad. I’m playing hurt. I’ll do better.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Derek says lovingly, and shakes out another doxycycline pill. “Swallow.” 

Stiles wrinkles his nose but gulps it down. “I’m starving.” 

“I’ll make you some soup later if you promise to drink lots of water.” 

Stiles licks his chapped lips. “Water would be great, actually.” 

“Two seconds.” Derek rushes downstairs for a cold glass, pulling out his phone with his other hand. “He’s better,” he says as soon as Scott picks up. 

“Wow, really? Hang on, my mom’s asking— did the fever break?” 

“It’s down to one-oh-two and he’s lucid. He asked for water.” 

Melissa’s voice comes over the phone. “Keep monitoring him through the day. Check the site of the incision to see if it’s still inflamed. And no contact with Leo yet, he might still be contagious.” 

“Okay.” Derek hangs up and rushes the water in to Stiles, who chugs it all in two gulps. “Where’s Leo?” he yawns. 

“Quarantined. You can see him tomorrow if you’re better.” 

“How long was I out?” 

“Four days.” 

Stiles looks comically horrified. “He’s going to think I abandoned him! What the hell happened, swine flu?” 

“You had an infection and your body was trying to fight it off. I just have to check to make sure it’s better, okay?” Derek checks between Stiles’s legs. The skin is still inflamed, but it’s definitely better than it was yesterday. 

“Der, you look exhausted. C’mere.” Stiles gives him a hug around his midsection. “Thanks for taking care of me.” 

Derek’s throat feels thick. “Thanks for not dying.” 

“Aww, anyone can do that.” 

“Yeah, but you make it look hard.” Derek kisses him. “What else can I get for you? More water?” 

“Just stay here for a sec.” Stiles frowns. “This is a dumb question, but…Kate Argent wasn’t here, was she?” 

“God, no.” 

“Okay, good. I think I was having some freaky dreams.” 

“Yeah,” Derek mutters, remembering the half-incomprehensible babbling of the past four days. “I think you were.” 

“It was bad, wasn’t it?” 

Derek nods. He feels a shudder rack him and Stiles hugs him again. “I’m right here,” he promises softly. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

# 

Stiles has never felt quite this weak before in his entire life. Even once his temperature is down to normal, he still feels like a fragile little baby bird or something. If Leo challenged him to an arm wrestling match right now Stiles would probably lose. 

It’s two days after his fever breaks before Melissa finally decrees he get to see his son again, though he uses up nearly half a bottle of hand sanitizer before Leo is brought into the room. “Oh, baby,” he croons when Isaac lowers Leo into his lap. Leo had been sniffling despondently but he stops as soon as he scents Stiles. He turns his head to root into Stiles’s chest, making Stiles chuckle and hurry to strip off his shirt. 

But when he lifts Leo up he realizes something is wrong, chest back to flat. His milk is gone. “Melissa?’ he asks in horror. 

“It’s okay, Stiles. You didn’t nurse for over a week. This is very common for male omegas, especially after illness when your hormones are all out of whack.” 

“But…what are we going to do?” 

“He’s taken formula in the past week. You can continue with that. I’m sorry, honey.” 

“But he hates bottles.” 

“He’s gotten better,” Isaac offers. “The first time I gave him a bottle he had an absolute fit. Now he’s a pro at it.” 

Stiles gently pulls Leo away— the baby is clearly confused, knowing that Stiles is supposed to be able to feed him but not smelling any milk. “Sorry, buddy,” Stiles tells him softly. “Can Daddy feed you a bottle instead?” 

Leo looks displeased. 

“I’ll get it,” Isaac says. Stiles rocks Leo until Isaac is back with the milk, then tries to get the nipple into Leo’s mouth. He doesn’t think he imagines the Derek-esque glower Leo gives him before begrudgingly starting to suck. 

Melissa allows the visit to carry on for another hour, until Stiles has read Leo his bedtime story and sang him a lullaby, before decreeing that Leo needs to go back to Isaac’s room so Stiles can get some sleep. “Think of it like a sleepover with your friend Emma,” Stiles suggests to him, holding him tightly in the last few moments before he hands him back over. “That’s fun, right?” 

Leo wails as soon as Isaac takes him back. “I’ll go with him,” Derek says softly, reaching out to try and comfort him as they walk from the room together. 

“Can he stay in here tomorrow?” Stiles asks Melissa, giving her his best puppy-dog eyes. Seeing as he currently looks like some sort of starving Dickensian urchin he makes a pretty pathetic picture and she hides a grin before saying, “I think so. As long as you really feel better and your temperature stays normal.” 

Stiles devotes himself to making sure that happens, dutifully swallowing soup and fluids and doxycycline and getting up to pace the room and get his strength back. Melissa gives him the all-clear to return to full-functioning fatherhood the next day and Stiles’s raises Leo’s arms in the air in celebration when Isaac finally brings him back. “That was yucky, being apart,” he tells the baby, cuddling him close as he dances him around the room. “Let’s not ever ever ever do it again.” 

Leo nuzzles against his collarbone. Stiles can’t believe how big he’s gotten just in the month since his birth and he gives him a huge kiss, so grateful to have him back. “Can you keep a secret?” he whispers. “You’re my very favorite person in the whole world.” 

“No secrets from werewolves,” Derek says, leaning over Stiles’s shoulder so he can grin at Leo. 

“You’re my second favorite,” Stiles tells him, awkwardly twisting to land a kiss on the corner of his nose. 

“Hey, stiff competition. I’ll take it.” Derek wraps his arms around them both. “Family hug,” he says, voice muffled by Stiles’s shoulder. “Papa’s orders.” 

Leo coos. 

# 

When Stiles wakes up he’s surprised to see the clock reading five a.m. Even now that he’s taking formula Leo is pretty insistent about being fed on time and it’s odd that he’d sleep through his two o’clock feeding. 

Stiles crawls out of bed carefully so he won’t wake Derek and walks over to the cradle. He feels even better this morning than yesterday. He’s in the mood to eat something actually substantial and wonders what a fresh-caught deer would taste like. Might as well start putting the werewolves in the house to good use. 

“Are you having nice dreams, sleepy boy?” he asks gently to ease Leo out of sleep as he reaches down into the cradle. For a second he doesn’t quite understand what he’s feeling, can’t force it to make sense, and then— 

“ _DEREK!_ ” 

There’s a crash and the light flips on. “What? What is it?” 

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” Stiles lifts his son out of the cradle, hand still pressed to the cheek that’s so hot Stiles had felt like he’d accidentally touched a stove. He sees now that Leo isn’t asleep at all but has his eyes shut tight, letting out whimpers so soft they hadn’t even woken Derek. “No, no.” He kisses the baby’s forehead, thinking idiotically of the way they always say omegas can tell a fever just through a kiss, as if anyone could possibly miss that he’s fevered— 

Derek lets out a snarl as loud as a roar when he smells the sickness and Stiles can hear footsteps as everyone in the house comes running. “Did he get it from me?” Stiles cries to Derek. “Is it the same thing I had?” 

Derek nods. His face is all bristled in a half-shift; he’s unable to control his instincts at the sight of his pup in such obvious peril. “It has to be,” he groans. “But we were so careful…I thought, since he didn’t nurse from you that morning, he must not have gotten infected…” 

“What’s happening?” Isaac cries as he practically kicks open the door. Derek says something, but Stiles is stuck on the thought of the morning he got sick, when Leo wouldn’t nurse. He’d had to pump the milk Leo wouldn’t drink. He’d put it in the fridge… 

“Isaac, did you feed Leo the bottle of breast milk in the fridge?” 

Isaac stares at him. “I…I guess so. That first morning you were sick, right? I thought since it was from you he might take it easier, but…” 

But he hadn’t. Isaac said that Leo had fought the milk, didn’t want to drink because he smelled what was wrong with it. God, they just hadn’t _thought_ about it, but Leo had drank the milk Stiles pumped after the fever came on. His baby had been poisoned by Stiles’s own milk and had lived with the infection in his body for days, just waiting to fester and boil— 

“No, sweetheart,” Stiles croons when Leo lets out another whimper. He can still remember the hallucinations that swamped him, the overwhelming pain. Is that what’s happening to his baby right now? 

“Derek, we have to take him to the hospital. We have to go _now_.” 

Derek nods and races for clothes while Stiles tries to soothe Leo any way he can. He doesn’t even bother to change out of his sweatpants and t-shirt, just grabs a baby blanket for Leo and swaddles him tightly. “I’ll call you,” Derek snaps to Isaac before gesturing Stiles out the door. 

Leo starts to cry in earnest when Derek starts the car and the engine roars. “Stiles,” Derek says. “Any newborn with a medical emergency is reported to the OSS so they can judge if it was the omega parent’s fault. If we take him to the emergency room, the OSS will have to be notified. We can take him to the twenty-four hour Urgent Care about twenty minutes away. They might just transfer him, but it’s our only shot of keeping the OSS from being involved.” 

“Will they be able to help him?” 

“I don’t know. We can go to the emergency room, but…” Derek trails off and Stiles gets it. It’s the worst choice he will ever have to make, but he whispers, “Urgent Care,” and Derek nods and steps on the gas. 

Leo cries the entire drive, completely unresponsive to any of Stiles’s attempts to calm him. Stiles knows that this could be the end for them. The OSS could come and take him away, give him to a proper family who will make sure he’s raised being told everything he isn’t, rather than everything he could be. Never seeing Stiles or Derek again. And God only knows what will happen to them… 

But it’s better for Leo to live, isn’t it? 

Stiles closes his eyes and hugs his son tightly against his chest. 

“Here,” Derek says roughly after he pulls into the Urgent Care parking lot. He slaps an ID card into Stiles’s hand. “Your friend Danny made it. Just follow my lead.” 

Stiles nods and tucks it into his pocket before following Derek inside. The woman at the front desk looks up at them. “Yes?” 

“My son is sick,” Derek says. He’s trying to keep from growling it, so his voice comes out shaky. “He has a fever.” 

“How high?” 

“I don’t know. High.” 

She nods. “I’ll check you in and someone will be with you soon.” 

“Sit,” Derek snaps to Stiles, playing the alpha role perfectly. 

It’s only about five minutes before their fake names are called— Richard and Michael Pryor— and a nurse leads them to an examination room. Her brow furrows when she takes Leo’s temperature. “This is a high fever for a little guy.” 

“I had an infection after I gave birth,” Stiles whispers. “He caught it from me.” 

She frowns at him. “You have to be careful,” she scolds before shifting her gaze to Derek. “I know it seems like omegas take to parenting well, but you still have to watch them. They make mistakes. Don’t let him be around the baby if he’s sick.” 

“I know,” Derek says, eyes on Leo. “Thank you.” 

They’re led to a room with cheerfully-printed wallpaper, where the nurse leaves them with the promise that the doctor will see them soon. Leo is listless against Stiles’s chest, tears still slipping down his chubby red cheeks. “If they make us, you have to run,” Derek says quietly. 

“I’m not leaving Leo.” 

“Stiles.” Derek looks pained. “They’re not going to let you keep him. You won’t survive if the OSS tries to break you again.” 

“I know what I can’t survive, Derek. Trust me.” Stiles kisses the top of Leo’s head, letting his lips linger in case a kiss feels good on his hot skin. 

There’s a knock on the door and the doctor walks in. “Alpha Pryor? Doctor Thompson. So this is our sick boy? He’s got quite the fever, I hear.” 

“He was like this when we woke up. We think he got it through my breast milk—“ 

The doctor gives Stiles a cold look, shutting him up. “I think I should hear this from your alpha. I’d like to know all the facts are right.” 

“He was like this when we woke up,” Derek says through gritted teeth. “We think he got it through St— Michael’s breast milk.” 

“The omega had a post-childbirth infection?” 

“Yeah. We…didn’t catch it at first.” 

The doctor gives Derek an exasperated look. “I know it seems almost natural to defer to the omega when it comes to the children. But you’re the alpha here. You need to be making sure he’s fit to be looking after your son. If he looks sick to you, don’t let him say he’s fine, keep him away from the baby until you’re sure.” The doctor chuckles. “No matter how much either of them cry about it.” 

“I did,” Derek says defensively. “As soon as we knew he was sick I kept the baby away and got him treatment.” 

“I’m surprised they didn’t check the baby at the hospital. This could all have been avoided.” The doctor rolls his eyes. “Oh, well, other people cutting corners is what makes me my paychecks. Let’s take a look at him.” 

Stiles hands him over reluctantly and the doctor lays him out, checking his glands and the top of his spine. Leo doesn’t like this at all and starts to scream shrilly, making the doctor turn up his nose a little. “He’s got quite a cry,” he says pointedly. “Wow. A real little fighter, isn’t he?” 

Stiles’s heart sinks. What if they figure out that he’s a werewolf? 

“Well, Alpha Pryor, you have two choices here. I can transfer him over to the emergency room. They’ll put him on fluids and drips and make a big stink and have the OSS come in to question your omega, and it’ll all cost you quite a chunk. Or I can give him ampicillin in injection form here, wait to see if he reacts well to it, and then give you a prescription for it in liquid form. You can give it to him over the next few days, and if he gets any worse, take him in for emergency treatment.” 

“Will that work?” 

“Well, hopefully. We need to see him respond to the first dosage. If he stays fevered for a prolonged period of time, you’re running a risk for permanent damage. I understand if you’d like to just take him to the ER, but the quicker he gets an antibiotic the better.” 

Derek sneaks a look at Stiles, who nods almost imperceptibly. “Okay,” Derek says. “Give him the shot.” 

The doctor prepares it, holding up a needle that looks like it’s half Leo’s size. “He’s not going to like this very much. It has to be injected directly into his muscle, since his veins are too tiny. Hold him tight.” 

Stiles hugs him, singing something soft under his breath, wincing in anticipation as the needle comes close. 

Leo nearly shatters his eardrums when the doctor gives him the shot. Derek takes him from Stiles, hushing him in a croon, sneakily slipping his hand over the site of the injection so he can take the pain. 

“We’re not that crowded this time of the morning, so why don’t you wait here? I’ll be back in about twenty minutes to see how he’s doing. If you think he’s having some kind of reaction, yell for a nurse.” 

The doctor leaves and Stiles exchanged a freaked-out look with Derek. “You think he recognized us?” Derek asks quietly, still rocking Leo. 

“I don’t know. He could be calling the police right now.” 

“I don’t want to leave without a prescription.” 

“No. We have to stay.” Stiles bends to look at Leo’s face. “Oh, buddy, Daddy’s sorry. We’re going to get you all better, I promise.” 

Leo whimpers. 

“I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like being around other people,” Stiles mutters after a few more tense minutes. 

“Yeah. I don’t like it.” 

“Maybe hermit life is the way to go after all. Huh, buddy?” Stiles tries to get Leo’s attention, just to see if his eyes will focus. 

“No.” Derek kisses Leo’s forehead when he starts to get fussy again. “Obviously hermit life is not the way to go.” His eyes are hard and he rocks the baby, staring at the wall. 

# 

When the doctor comes back he takes Leo’s temperature again and says in satisfaction it’s already slightly down. He writes them a prescription to pick up at the local pharmacy and tells them to come back in three days. “And you’re going to be a little stricter, right, Alpha Pryor?” he asks half-jokingly as he fills out their exit forms. “If you want your baby to stay healthy, both of you have to do your jobs a little better.” 

When they check out the receptionist looks expectantly at Derek. “How are you paying today?” 

“Cash,” Derek says shortly. “Omega, go get the car started.” 

Stiles goes outside with Leo, still half-expecting to be ambushed by OSS agents. The baby is still sniffling and Stiles hums to him as he waits in the car. Derek emerges after a few minutes, scowling hugely. “That woman was a fucking pest,” he says when he gets in the car. “Going on about how she wants Leo’s medical records sent over before our return appointment.” 

“Look, at least they didn’t call the OSS.” 

“Mm.” Derek shakes his head and steps on the gas. “Let’s get the medicine.” 

When they get there they just sit in the car for a minute. “I’ll go,” Stiles says eventually. “If they’re going to remember anyone from a two-months-old newscast, it would be the arsonist werewolf, not me.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah.” Stiles takes the money Derek holds out and heads inside. He goes straight for the counter and pays as quickly as possible, keeping his head down. The pharmacist tells him how to administer the medicine— _“Sweetie, is your alpha with you? This is very complicated and I don’t want you to get it wrong_ ”— before sending him on his way. 

Stiles can see Derek talking to Leo through the window and when he opens the car door he catches the tail end of the conversation: “Papa’s so sorry, buddy. I love you. I’m so, so sorry.” 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Stiles says softly as he drop the bag at his feet and reaches for Leo. 

Derek hands him over and turns his stony gaze to the road. “I should have caught it before. I should have kept it from happening in the first place.” 

“You’re not God, Derek. You can’t stop something like this.” 

“Maybe I can’t. But I should be able to.” Derek’s face is turning red. For a wild second Stiles thinks he might be about to burst into tears, which is so incongruous with the Derek he knows that he just kind of stares in horror. “I’m not a good alpha,” Derek says in a rush. 

“What? _What?_ Derek, of course you are. You’re—” 

“I’m not. I’m supposed to be able to protect you two. But all I can ever do is put you in danger. Stiles, you would be so much safer if you had never met me.” 

Stiles shakes his head and puts his free hand on Derek’s thigh. “You are the best alpha in the world,” he says firmly. “But you’re more than just my alpha, Derek. You’re my mate. Remember what you told me, what a _mate_ means to you? You’re all of those things. And if I had never met you…” Stiles exhales heavily, not even wanting to think about it. “Who gives a fuck about being safe? What kind of a trade would that be? I’d let the OSS have me for a hundred years if I got to have you for one day, Der. Because you show me, every day, that I’m more than what they say I am, just like you’re more than what you say you are. You made all of this worth it. Don’t ever doubt that.” 

Derek drives in silence for a while before turning to look at Stiles. “I love you,” he says quietly. 

“I know, softywolf.” Stiles gives Derek’s thigh one last squeeze and returns his attention to Leo, who appears to have drifted off to sleep. “I love you too.” 

# 

The house is somber over the next day as they all wait to see if Leo is going to get better. The doctor said he should be taken to the emergency room if his fever stays at 101.7 or higher, so they keep monitoring it. He doesn’t like the thermometer or the medicine and Stiles is pretty sure that he’s going to end up hating them by the end of it all. 

The pack tries to help. Isaac feels so guilty about the breast milk that he makes bottle after bottle of formula, since the doctor said it was key to keep Leo fed and hydrated. Erica and Boyd shift and fight in the living room for Leo’s amusement; he loves to look at the wolves. Kira makes them some kind of herbal poultice thing she swears will help him sleep. Liam pushes himself going farther north than ever before, in the hopes of finding anyone who can help them. Mason takes care of everything else, the cleaning and cooking and shopping, so everybody can devote themselves to the baby. 

Stiles gives Leo bath after bath, sings every song in his arsenal to get him to swallow the medicine, and walks him outside in the fresh air for hours, while Derek always lingers a step behind to take any potential pain or smell if the fever’s rising. Leo cries whenever Stiles puts him down and won’t fall asleep unless someone is holding him, so Stiles just stays awake and rocks him for hours and hours. 

He thinks at one point that he would have taken an entire year of his own illness rather than watch his son be sick. 

The fever drops, but Leo is still listless and Stiles starts to worry that maybe it caused permanent damage. He tries testing Leo’s reflexes— putting his finger in Leo’s palm to see if he grips; stroking his cheek to get him to turn his head; sticking out his tongue to see if Leo will copy— and even though Leo dutifully performs he still worries. 

“You know, somebody really should have told me there were going to be parts of parenthood that were hard,” he says to Derek at one point, exhaustedly rubbing a circle on Leo’s back. “I was under the impression that it was all baby coos all the time.” 

Derek has dark circles under his eyes. “Let’s hope this is just a one-time parenting test.” 

“Seriously.” Leo’s asleep so Stiles lowers him carefully into his cradle, breath held to see if he wakes up. He sleeps on and Stiles exhales in relief, skirting his finger over the baby’s flushed cheek. “I’m going to try and grab an hour. Wake me up if he makes a single sound.” 

The next morning his fever is down and he’s sleeping a little easier, though he’s still clingy and sniffling. John comes by, toting an entire bag of children’s books he just bought, and cuddles with his grandson while reading them aloud. Leo loves John and being read to and actually lets out a few peaceful sounds before falling asleep against John’s chest. 

Unlike the fitful naps he’s been taking for the past two days this one lasts for a while, so long that Stiles eventually has to wake him up for his next bottle and dose of medicine. “Leo,” Stiles calls softly, putting a hand on his son’s cheek and noting in relief that it practically feels normal. “Time to wake up, buddy.” 

Leo opens his eyes, blinks up at Stiles, and smiles sleepily. 

_Smiles_. 

Stiles almost falls to the floor. 

Because this is his very first smile. The smile Stiles was starting to think he would never see. A happy, gummy grin, as if to say, _sorry I scared you, Dad. All better now!_

“Leo!” Stiles picks him up and practically twirls him around. “You tiny perfect miracle!” 

Derek has just stepped into the room and looks at them warily. “What?” 

“C’mere, c’mere.” Stiles points the baby at Derek and sees Derek’s face light up. 

“Holy shit.” Derek looks up at Stiles, a manic grin on his face. “He smiled!” 

“He’s okay, Derek!” Stiles practically leaps into Derek’s embrace, hearing a happy gurgle from Leo at the family hug. He’s so relieved he could almost cry. 

# 

The pack celebrates Leo’s apparent turnaround with a festiveness normally reserved for religious holidays and the New Year. They take turns holding the baby, trying to get him to smile again, and Stiles feels confident enough to leave him alone with the others long enough to grab a quick shower. 

Derek gets in with him— hey, saves both time and water— and they kiss hungrily, smashed up against the shower wall. Stiles feels bubbly with relief and urges Derek on, feeling himself get slick with anticipation. “How fast can you do this?” he gasps. 

“What? Fuck you?” 

“Yeah, if we don’t knot, if you just…in and out.” Stiles snickers. “Come and go.” 

“You sure? It’s not exactly romantic…” 

“Trust me, this is perfect. Quick, though, before Leo misses us.” 

Derek snorts but gets two fingers inside him with enthusiasm, scissoring him open so quickly Stiles is practically humping against the shower wall. The water helps, mixing with his slick to make the way easier, and after a few minutes of dutiful prep he can feel the head of Derek’s cock nudging his hole. It feels _so_ good, like the first taste of chocolate after months on a diet, and he moans in pure delight as Derek sinks inside of him. He clenches and Derek hisses, wrapping his arms around Stiles’s midsection for purchase as he thrusts. Stiles isn’t sure if it’s the months of abstinence or just purposeful efficiency that leads to Derek coming within three minutes, but it’s the greatest three minutes Stiles has had for a while. 

“Sneaky shower sex,” Stiles gasps, hands braced against the wall as Derek shudders out the last of his orgasm. “Holy shit, Der, we’re real parents.” 

Derek growls in satisfaction and licks up the water droplets on Stiles’s neck. “You’re goddamn right we are.” 

# 

They go back to the Urgent Care for their return appointment the next day. Leo is a completely different child than the one they had brought and he shows off his new smile to the nurse, charming her completely. “Looks like someone’s been doing their job,” she says to Stiles approvingly. “I was about ready to report you to the OSS last time, but it looks like you really took care of him.” 

He tries to look contrite. “It won’t ever happen again, ma’am.” 

The doctor, too, is pleased to see Leo’s fast turnaround. “You can stop with the ampicillin,” he tells him after he finishes the checkup. “I’m going to give you a prescription for something a little less intense, just to kill any lingering bacteria in his system. Keep an eye on him and give us a call if anything seems off, all right?” 

“All right,” Derek says almost cheerfully, taking the baby back and giving him a wrinkle-nose smile. 

“And please make sure to get his medical records on file. We looked past it this time, but he is an omega. The OSS likes to know what their health is like, so you need a complete reporting of his medical history.” The doctor gives Leo a little wave. “But hopefully we won’t be seeing you again for a long time!” 

The easy doctor’s visit just adds to the relief Derek and Stiles are both feeling, and they loudly sing along to the radio for Leo’s amusement as they drive back to the pharmacy. It’s a perfect sunny day, and Stiles sits in the back seat with Leo’s car seat, pointing out the clouds through the back window. 

At the pharmacy he offers to go in again, unhooking Leo from his car seat so Derek can keep him occupied while Stiles shops. “Might as well grab formula and bread and stuff while I’m in there,” he says. “Save Mason a shopping trip.” 

“Okay. Here’s money.” 

“Thanks.” Stiles tickles Leo under the chin. “Daddy will be back quick, like a bunny!” 

Derek scoffs. “Bunnies aren’t quick. Wolves are faster than bunnies, right, Leo? That’s why we chase ‘em down.” 

“Don’t instill your bunny-murdering lunacy in our son.” 

“The hunting instinct is very important for werewolves.” Derek lifts Leo up in the air. “We see, we chase, we pounce, and…ooh!” He guides Leo to Stiles’s neck. “Gotcha!” 

“Nooo!” Stiles pretends to flail, making Leo squeal in pure delight. “How about I go hunt you down some candy in there, super-wolf?” 

“Snickers, thanks. Here’s more money.” Derek hands him another ten dollar bill and affects a snobbish voice. “Go buy yourself something nice. You deserve it.” 

“You’re ridiculous. But I definitely will, so thanks.” Stiles gives Leo three quick kisses and blows one to Derek before hurrying out of the car and inside the pharmacy. 

It’s a little more crowded now that it’s midday so he grabs a basket and heads to the candy aisle first, grabbing two king-sized candy bars for Derek and one for himself. He heads over to grab bread, wondering if he should get two or if they still have half a loaf at home, and is it wheat bread that everyone likes, or honey oat? 

The second before it happens he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in warning. He doesn’t have time to run but his shoulders tense, anticipating the hand that suddenly grips him by the neck. _Derek_ , he thinks for a confused second, but that can’t be right; Derek promised to never grab him by the neck. 

A voice hisses in his ear. “You little bitch.” 

It takes him a second to place it and then the man turns him and Stiles recognizes him. Harris. The orderly from Eichen. 

His basket crashes to the ground. 

“Somebody call the police,” Harris says loudly, addressing the crowd of shoppers who have already stopped in alarm. “This omega is a runaway. He’s wanted by the OSS.” 

Stiles pretends to bow his head in deference, then sinks his teeth into Harris’s arm. He lets go with a curse and Stiles runs for it, bobbing past the shocked crowd. “Grab him!” Harris roars. “Go after him!’ 

Someone grabs at his jacket and Stiles lets it fall off of him. He just has to get outside. Derek will see what’s going on, and— 

And they’ll get him too. 

If they see Stiles running for Derek, they’ll chase. And Derek has Leo. The only thing they can do is lead the OSS straight to the Hale House, where everyone will be taken, including their son. 

Stiles can’t let that happen. 

He lets someone tackle him to the ground ad stays there, pretending to be too winded to move. Harris comes and holds him down, keeping his cheek pressed into the cold linoleum. “Where’s everybody else?” he growls. 

“I don’t know. We separated.” 

“Liar. But don’t worry. The OSS will get it out of you.” Harris’s fingers caress the side of his throat. “Oh, omega, you have no idea how many people are looking forward to seeing you again.” 

Stiles closes his eyes. He thinks of Derek and Leo still waiting outside. _Run_ , he thinks, hoping with all his might that this time Derek doesn’t come after him. _Forget me and go._

A tear drips down the side of his face and Harris sees. He snorts and lets up the pressure, obviously deciding Stiles is beaten. “Don’t go having any grand ideas of escape again,” he warns. “You’re _finished_ , omega.” 

Stiles just nods. He presses his face into the ground and waits, telling himself that if the others escape, that’s what matters. That’s the most he can hope for now. What Harris is saying is true, but it’s all right, because Leo and Derek will get away. 

They _have_ to get away. 

And for that to happen, Stiles can’t. 

# 

Derek has no idea what’s taking Stiles so long. 

He huffs exaggeratedly at the baby. “Daddy’s being a slowpoke.” 

Leo coos and closes his eyes contentedly. 

“Maybe we should go in there and see what’s taking him so long.” Derek squints out the window. They might be giving him a hard time at checkout for picking up the medications; he knows they don’t like to give them to omegas without an alpha present. “We’ll give him another two minutes.” 

Just as he says it a police car wails up the street, stopping in front of the pharmacy. 

Derek goes completely still. 

Another car pulls up, an expensive black one, and two more people in plainclothes get out and walk inside the pharmacy with the officers. 

OSS. 

They have Stiles. 

Derek tries to think. He could shift and cause a commotion. He could take a hostage; maybe one of the OSS people. He has his phone, so he can call for backup, though it will take at least twenty minutes for the others to get here. If he can get one of the officers’ guns… 

Leo makes a sleepy sound against his chest and Derek looks down at him. Leo. What is he supposed to do with Leo? 

He can’t just leave him in the car. And he can’t let the OSS see; they’ll take him. 

With slowly dawning horror, he realizes exactly what he’s supposed to do. What Stiles wants him to do. 

Drive away. 

Get out of here as quickly as possible, go far away with the others, and never look back. Protect the kids from the OSS at all costs. 

Stiles had known the cost might be high. That the cost might be _him_. But he was the one who had insisted. He’d made Derek promise. 

The pharmacy doors open and Stiles is led out in handcuffs, the OSS people flanking him. He looks up and his gaze meets Derek’s through the car window. There’s nothing scared or pleading there, just a fierceness. An _order._ It only last a second, and then he looks down to the ground, as if he doesn’t have a friend in the world he can turn to. 

Derek stares as they put Stiles into the car. He watches, Leo now asleep in his arms, as they turn on the lights and drive his mate away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Fevered hallucinations of a baby drowning; a baby becomes very ill; shower sex (it feels weird to tag something happy but better safe than sorry!); some sexist expletives
> 
> NEXT UP: In a worse position than he's ever been in before, Stiles learns what the OSS has planned for him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief housekeeping thing: I put up a final chapter count of 18 last chapter, largely as a way of keeping myself on track, but then just in writing this chapter I only covered like a third of what I had planned. So I took down the final chapter count rather than keep adjusting it. It probably will still be very close to what it said before, but it's pointless trying to tie myself down to a set chapter count when I have absolutely no self-control and couldn't keep these chapters short if my life depended on it.  
> Trigger warning in the end notes.

They drive him back to Beacon Hills. He expected it, but it still makes his chest ache. The streets look different than they did this morning when he drove out of town with Derek and Leo. 

He wonders if Derek is following them back or if he’s just calling the others, telling them to get out of Beacon Hills. That would probably be best. Still, he stares out the window, looking for Derek’s car. Just hoping for a glimpse of him, maybe. One last look before he really feels like they’ve said goodbye. 

When they park at the OSS building Stiles doesn’t want to get out of the car, but the police manhandle him out and hand him over to the OSS agents. “Shouldn’t I be going with them?” Stiles blurts, the first thing he’s said since they scraped him off the floor. “I burned down a building. I should be going to jail.” 

“We know you had nothing to do with that.” The OSS guy has his hand tight around Stiles’s neck, thumb rubbing against his pulse in a way that’s apparently meant to be soothing. “Derek Hale was the one who burned down Eichen. The fact that you went along with it is due to the bond you thought you had, and jail time wouldn’t correct that. Your rehabilitation is left to us.” 

He’s led to a small room and left to sit alone for a long time before another man comes in. “Hi, Omega Stilinski,” he says, taking a seat across from Stiles. “My name is Brian. I’m your new caseworker.” 

Stiles crosses his arms. He’s already decided there’s no point in pretending to be contrite. “Who’d you piss off to get that job? Things didn’t end up too well for my last caseworker.” 

“Ah yes, Jen. Very tragic. She survived, in case you hadn’t heard. A bit of a mess to look at, but she’ll be back to work eventually. She’ll be very pleased to hear we’ve finally found you; of all the omegas who escaped you’re the one we’ve been most interested in getting back.” Brian steeples his fingers. “Where are the others?” 

“No idea. We separated.” 

Brian raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “And your baby? You’ve obviously delivered. Who has him? Is he with Derek?” 

Stiles shakes his head and stares down at the floor. “He died,” he says. His voice catches. “I was hiding in the woods when I went into labor. It…it went wrong. He didn’t make it.” His throat is too tight to say another word, even though it’s not true. Leo might still be alive, but Stiles will never see him again. 

“Stiles,” Brian says, dragging out the syllables chidingly. “You know better than to lie. Derek has him, doesn’t he?” 

“Derek went feral after the baby died. He ran away and left me. I’ve been alone for weeks.” Stiles rucks up his shirt. “Look. No milk. If the baby survived, I would obviously be nursing him. I’m telling you the truth.” 

“So who’s been helping you? Your dad?” 

“He had no idea where I was. I’ve just been stealing. I paid some back alley guy for a fake ID.” Stiles tosses the Michael Pryor ID across the table. “Look, I don’t know anything, so this is a waste of time. What are you going to do to me? Send me to another prison camp? Lobotomize me? I get it, you caught me. I fold. Let’s just get this done.” 

Brian chuckles. “I’m not Jennifer, Stiles. I’m a firm believer that omegas who act up do so because they aren’t being put to their proper use. Why lock you away at a camp for months, keeping your body from its most basic needs?” He stands. “I still think you know where the others are, and you’ll tell us eventually. But for right now you’re going to have a checkup. Come on.” 

Brian takes him to a medical examining room, where a doctor and a nurse undress him and put him in a gown. “His due date was about three weeks ago,” Brian tells them. “He’s claiming it was a stillbirth.” 

The doctor frowns and puts Stiles’s legs in stirrups so she can look between his legs. “A bit inflamed here. Were you ill, omega?” 

Stiles stares up at the ceiling. “I didn’t have anyone to sew it, so it took a while to heal.” 

They examine his chest, manhandling to see if anything comes out. The doctor shrugs at Brian. “Well, he hasn’t been nursing, and he clearly delivered naturally. If he delivered alone, it’s possible that the child didn’t make it.” 

“That would certainly be a shame,” Brian says, staring hard at Stiles. “A child dying like that because of an omega’s selfishness. It would be grounds for manslaughter.” 

“So send me to jail. I’ve always wanted to make prison wine.” 

“He thinks he’s funny,” Brian tells the doctor. “Hard to believe only a monster wanted him, hm?” 

The doctor chuckles and turns to get a large syringe. “Hold out his arm, please.” 

The nurse grabs Stiles’s arm roughly, turning it so the pale skin of his wrist is exposed. “What are you doing?’ Stiles asks, panicking. He struggles, but he can’t get his arm free. 

The doctor injects the contents of the syringe into his arm, just below the crook of his elbow. “Microchipping you.” 

“You can’t—” 

“I guess you haven’t heard. All omegas are now being microchipped with their health and mating information as their primary form of identification, so those fake IDs you runaways are so fond of won’t be useful anymore. If a doctor or government official or police officer believes an omega is far from home they can scan the chip and return the omega to their alpha. We’re currently pushing for new legislation allowing us to modify the chips to carry GPS tracking information, so any lost omega can be quickly located and recovered by their home OSS department. Legislators balked at the idea before, but the incident at Eichen was a wake-up call. You’ll probably be receiving your new tracking chip within the year.” 

“So I guess we owe you one,” Brian says. “Thanks to you and Derek Hale, no more omegas will be running off into the mountains. And if they try, and there _are_ camps out there— we’ll be making sure we bring all those lost omegas home.” 

Stiles can’t think of any response to that so he just goes silent, staring at the wall. “What’s his heat schedule like?” Brian asks the doctor. 

“Shot to hell. Since he wasn’t given the proper medications after birth his body is still in the natural after-delivery state— preventing a heat until six months after birth. That’s easily correctible.” The doctor gives Stiles a stern look. “Are you going to take your medicine, or do I have to give you another shot?” 

Stiles meets his gaze stonily. “Guess.” 

The doctor rolls her eyes and prepares another syringe. The hold him down the way the clinic doctor had held down Leo, even sticking a similar-looking pink band-air over the injection site. “His first heat won’t be for a few weeks,” the doctor tells Brian. “But of course a heat can always be forced, if need be.” 

“Great,” Brian says cheerfully. “All done?” 

“Yep.” 

They let him get dressed himself, but Brian puts a hand on his neck again to lead him down the hall. This time he gets a room with a cot. “I have a meeting with some of the higher-ups to decide what we’re going to do with you,” Brian tells him. “They’ll be bringing you dinner soon. You need anything else?” 

“I want to see my dad.” 

“Your father’s parental rights were dissolved a long time ago. I don’t think there’s any reason to bring him here now.” 

Stiles shrugs, expecting that answer, and sits on the cot. Brian leaves and doesn’t come back— in fact, nobody comes, except one person to bring him a tray of food and then take it away. Weirdly, this is worse than being surrounded by the enemy, and he paces back and forth for what seems like hours. 

Leo and Derek feel so far away, as if they had never existed. He tries to hold images of them in his mind: Leo’s brand-new smile and serious eyes. Derek sprawled out in sleep, brow furrowed as if he doesn’t even relax when he’s unconscious. Derek holding Leo in that perfect moment right after the baby falls asleep, grinning up at Stiles while Leo’s chest rises and falls peacefully. 

They’re still out there. Derek will keep Leo safe. That’s what matters. 

Stiles falls asleep and has fitful dreams he can’t remember when he wakes up. A different person brings him breakfast and lets him take a shower before leaving him alone again. He’s starting to think they’re trying to make him die of boredom as an easy way to deal with him when Brian comes back into the room and points at the table. “Have a seat.” 

Stiles sits warily. Brian hands him a pen and holds out a piece of paper, which has been folded so all Stiles can see is a line with his name typed underneath. “Sign here.” 

“Yeah, unless those are my release papers, no way.” 

Brian shrugs and takes it back. “That’s fine. Since you’re a ward of the state, we have the right to sign on your behalf. Just thought I’d give you one more chance to be cooperative.” He signs Stiles’s name with a flourish. “There we go.” 

“What was that? Some kind of confession?” 

“It’s your mating contract.” Brian smiles at him. “Congratulations.” 

Something hard and cold sinks into the pit of Stiles’s stomach. “What did you do?” 

“I told you. You need to be put to your proper use. You should consider yourself very fortunate— someone like you would usually have to settle for the lowest of betas, but we’ve found you an alpha. We’re convinced they’re going to put you to rights in no time.” 

“Let me see the contract.” 

“No, it’s for your file. Just hang tight here while we work out some details. Your alpha will be picking you up soon.” 

Brian walks out again and Stiles slumps against the chair. Maybe he’s just being naïve, unable to accept this situation, but he feels the tiniest frisson of hope in his chest. What alpha in the world could possibly want him? What if Derek had tipped off John and this is actually a rescue attempt— Jordan from the station or Stiles’s friend Danny or someone else sympathetic to him trying to get him out? 

The more he thinks about it, the more it seems possible. He practices a disappointed look so his face won’t give him away if it’s someone he knows. He knew that Derek wouldn’t give up on him _completely_ ; arranging this from far away is exactly something he would do. 

It’s about an hour before Brian comes back. “Your alpha is here. Time to go.” 

He lets himself be led out to the front of the building. There’s a familiar woman standing by the desk and Stiles’s nose wrinkles when he recognizes her. He doesn’t get it for a second, just thinks she must be here for some other reason, before Brian says, “Alpha Argent. Sorry to keep you waiting.” 

“No problem.” Kate looks Stiles up and down. “Well, you clearly weren’t getting him cleaned up for me, were you?” 

It clicks into place and Stiles bolts, throwing off Brian’s hand and racing for the door. Kate grabs him easily, tugging him into a control hold. Her hand pets his hair. “Aww. Look at you running to your alpha. And here I thought you might not be happy to see me.” 

“It can’t be you,” Stiles rasps. 

“Actually, this works out beautifully. The OSS called to tell me that it appeared the baby I’ve been waiting to have recovered may have died, but I figured— why cry over spilled milk when I can just get the cow?” Kate puts her hand over his belly to hold him still. “Biological children will be more to my liking anyway.” 

“Don’t do this,” Stiles pleads to Brian, throwing pride to the wind. “She’s going to hurt me. She just wants to use me because my dad’s the sheriff—” 

Kate chuckles. “Your father isn’t the sheriff anymore, omega. After you were found only one town over from Beacon Hills the public felt he must have been supporting his fugitive son. We held an emergency vote this morning and he was removed from office. I hope you and your friends weren’t counting on any support from the Beacon Hills police, because that’s gone now.” 

Stiles sags. His dad has been fired because of him. For a second he feels such great despair he doesn’t know what to do and Brian nods at Kate approvingly. “Look at that. He’s already responding well to you. Let’s just chat quickly in a private room and we can send you on your way.” 

Stiles doesn’t move his feet but Kate just drags him, tucking him close to her body so all he can smell is her sour alpha scent. They go to a cheerfully patterned room where Kate takes a seat across from Brian, pushing Stiles down to his knees next to her. 

“Alrighty,” Brian says cheerfully. “As I said, things already seem to be going well, but we do just have this little training session when alphas take on omegas that are proven to be unruly. We don’t want your first few weeks as a mated couple to have any more stress than necessary.” 

“Of course. I want to give my omega the very best care.” 

“You’re already used a control hold on him, and you’ll find that this works very well to keep him calm and docile. You can see right now that he’s stressed— elevated heartrate and the color in his cheeks. Like many omegas he has a history of anxiety and panic attacks. Keep an eye out for any signs that he might be getting worked up, then get him on his knees like he is now and start the hold.” 

Kate’s hand wraps around his neck and Stiles tries to jerk away with all his might. “Like this?” 

“Exactly— get your thumb over his pulse, right there. Don’t worry, it’s natural for him to struggle. Just keep the hold nice and tight and rub a circle over the pulse— oh, just like that. That’s excellent, Alpha Argent. Keep it up.” 

Kate squeezes his neck. It’s painful and all-encompassing and Stiles’s struggles slow as he tries to find a comfortable way to breathe. Within minutes he feels sluggish and he goes limp, head bowed. “His pulse is back to normal,” Kate reports. 

“It happens quickly, doesn’t it? Even the ones that act like tigers are pussycats in the right hands. Now, if he’s struggling to the point that you can’t get him on his knees, wrap him in your arms so he’s facing outwards and his arms are in an X over his chest…” Brian’s voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater and Stiles can feel himself checking out, mind drifting away as Kate keeps up the tight hold. He hates that he’s being docile and quiet and good just like they want, but he can’t make himself focus. 

After a few minutes it actually starts to feel pleasant, fuzzy and floaty as he kind of just forgets where he is. When a soft, warm hand cups his cheek it feels so good he mindlessly nuzzles into it. “Oh,” a voice says, bringing him out of it. “You weren’t kidding.” 

His eyes snap open and he sees Kate and Brian smiling down at him. It’s Kate’s hand caressing his cheek and he tries to pull away, but she’s still gripping him gently by the neck. “This is a good way for you to establish your bond,” Brian tells her. “I know the instinct is to breed him immediately, but you don’t want to move too fast when he already has a connection to another alpha. Continue with physical contact and scent immersion. Shower with him— shut the door tight and make the water hot so there’s plenty of steam. Don’t let him be around other alphas. That way, by the time his heat hits, he’ll be begging for it.” 

“And you’re sure he’s fertile?’ Kate practically purrs. “He’ll be nineteen next month; he’s not getting any younger.” 

“He’ll be pregnant by the end of his first heat with you.” 

“Excellent. If there’s nothing else, I’d like to get him home.” 

“You’re good to go. Just stop at the clerk’s desk to sign off and you can get out of here.” Brian hesitates. “And, of course, if you _can_ get him to tell you where the others are, give us a call immediately.” 

“Don’t worry. You’ll be hearing from us.” Kate taps his shoulder. “Up,” she orders, and he rises shakily. He feels tiny and young and he tries to remember Leo and Derek. He’s a father. He’s someone’s mate. He’s Stiles Stilinski. He isn’t Kate’s toy. 

Kate stops with him at the front desk, where she’s handed a copy of the mating contract. “Let me print your certificate,” the woman at the desk tells her. “To be sure I have the names right— it’s Katherine Argent and Genim, G-E-N-I-M, Argent, yes?” 

Kate snorts. “Is that his legal name? It’s almost as stupid as the nickname.” 

“You’re free to change it now. Some alphas like to do that, take away the name the alpha parent gave to really break that bond.” 

“Damn, if only I’d thought of something.” Kate’s nails scratch lightly at the base of his neck. That’s something Derek used to do, but her hand is more delicate and the nails feel brittle. He hates it. “Well, Gen is nice. Just put that. I can always change it later if it doesn’t suit him.” 

“Okay.” The woman types. “Katherine and Gen Argent. Here’s your certificate. Congratulations, Alpha Argent.” 

“Thank you. Come along, Gen. Let’s go home.” 

He looks pleadingly at the clerk, but she’s already turned away. He can’t get into Kate’s car; he’ll never get away from her. “Kate, you don’t have to do this. What do you want with me?” 

Her hand cracks against his cheek out of nowhere, cutting a gash just under his eye. Nobody in the area reacts except for the clerk, who has the tiniest amused smile on her face as she continues to type. “I want you to speak to me with respect. Can you do that?” 

“Yes, Alpha,” he mutters, hand pressed tightly to his cheek. 

“Good boy. No more questions, now.” Kate walks him towards the door, lips close to his ear. “And I also want you to tell me where Derek is,” she murmurs softly. “But it might take some time before you’re ready to do that, hm?” 

“I don’t know where he is.” 

“Oh, don’t lie right to my face. You don’t want a spanking, do you?” 

The thought of that is so horrific his brain just rejects it. 

The sunlight is harsh after so much time inside and he cringes away from it, accidentally pressing himself a little closer to Kate as he does so. “Aww,” she says softly, rubbing his shoulder. “Sweet thing. You’re not going to be so difficult, are you?” 

A car suddenly pulls up in front of the OSS building, squealing to a stop. Stiles’s dad jumps out. He’s not in uniform and Stiles stares at him, feeling horrible. Kate had been telling the truth. He’s been fired. 

“ _Mr._ Stilinski,” Kate says, hands tightening around Stiles’s neck and arm. “You heard the good news, I take it. Your son is officially an Argent.” 

“Oh, God,” John says, eyes huge. “Stiles…” He takes a step forward and Kate jerks Stiles backwards. “Really, John,” she scolds. “You know better than to touch another alpha’s omega without permission.” 

John and Stiles stare at each other for a long miserable moment, and when John speaks again his voice is choked. “Alpha Argent, please, don’t hurt my son. He-he’s a good boy.” 

“Oh, John, we both know that’s not true. But maybe by the time you see him again, he will be. Don’t bother coming by. You won’t be getting inside.” Kate taps Stiles’s cheek. “Don’t pay him any mind, omega. Keep walking.” 

“Let me say goodbye,” Stiles whispers. 

“Why would I—” 

“Please, Alpha.” 

Kate looks at him for a second. “How about we establish something now? You get something you want if you do something I want. That’s fair, right? So I’ll let you say goodbye to your father if you agree to put on your collar.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a thick leather collar. Alphas always used to collar their omegas to show family ownership, but it’s less common today. He can see it’s designed to be a tight fit around his neck, a constant control hold to keep him docile. He can think of about seventy thousand things he would rather do than wear it. 

“Okay,” he mumbles. 

She looks pleased and presses it into his hand. “Put it on.” 

He does, hands shaking so much it takes him a few times to get the clasp done. She tightens it until he’s almost choking, then nods to his dad. “You have thirty seconds.” 

Stiles stumbles into his dad’s embrace. He smells like tobacco— he’s always been a stress-smoker, no matter how much Stiles yells at him for it. Stiles buries himself in the hug. “I love you,” he says, loud enough for Kate to hear, then rises slightly so he can hiss into his dad’s ear, “ _Are they out of Beacon Hills?_ ” 

His dad squeezes him tightly, nodding just enough that Stiles can feel the movement. He goes limp with relief. Derek had listened. He’d gotten everyone away. 

Everything’s going to be fine— not for him, but for the others. That’s what matters. 

Kate hooks a finger through the hole in the back of his collar to tug him away. “All right,” she says. “That will have to tide you over for a while. But if he’s _exceptionally_ well-behaved, John, maybe we’ll let you visit your first grandchild.” She leads him away, still gripping him by the collar so he can’t look back. Stiles forces himself to think about his dad holding his real grandchild. The head-over-heels look on his face as he held Leo. It had happened, and they’d all been happy. He can’t let himself forget that. 

Kate drives too fast and he grips the handle of the car door, imagining throwing himself out and rolling away like something out of a movie. The collar digs into his neck. He scratches under it and feels the deep, brand-like groove it’s already cut into his skin. 

The Argent estate is massive and Kate slows to a stop in front of a buzz-in gate. “We’re very concerned about privacy,” she tells him as the gate opens. “And the perimeter is lined with mountain ash, so no werewolves can sneak in…or, if we have _guests_ over, none can sneak out.” 

“Guests,” Stiles repeats dubiously. 

“I suppose now that you’re family, you can know. Many werewolves across the country run away from a mating or the law and we consider it our duty to take them in. So we seek them out, bring them here, and…well, they’re never missed.” 

Stiles’s stomach turns. 

“Here we are,” Kate says as she slows to a stop. She smiles at Stiles and strokes his cheek with her thumb. “Welcome home.” 

# 

There are some ways in which Derek is a very stereotypical alpha, and his constant, driving need to protect others as a way of avoiding his own feelings is at the top of that list. 

When he was ten and the family dog died he swallowed down the lump in his throat and instead comforted his younger siblings, planning a funeral so they could say goodbye and carving a big wooden cross with his mom to adorn the grave. After the house burned he’d devoted himself to taking care of Cora, hugging her for hours as she sobbed into his chest. It’s the only way he knows to get through grief: alleviate someone else’s. 

After they take Stiles away he sits in the parking lot for a long time, holding Leo. The baby sleeps for a little while, then wakes up fussy, wanting a bottle and Stiles. Derek snaps into protector mode. He straps Leo into his carseat, mumbling, “Don’t cry, don’t cry,” in a litany as Leo’s lower lip wobbles ominously, then calls the house. “They caught Stiles,” he says when Isaac picks up. “You should get out of Beacon Hills.” 

He doesn’t want to think about what the OSS might do to Stiles to make him give up the others’ location. If anyone could stay strong through it, it’s Stiles, but Derek just doesn’t know, and the OSS might be on high alert looking around this town and Beacon Hills now. This is all Derek can do. Protect the rest of the pack. 

“Call Scott and John,” he says, ignoring Isaac’s stammered questions. “Don’t worry about driving. Get the others to shift and lead you out through the woods. Go in pairs, a half hour apart. Pack anything identifying and stuff for the kids.” 

“Where to?” 

Derek names a town to the north, about a half hour from Beacon Hills. He can’t bring himself to go too far away, even though he knows Stiles wants them to be beating a path to Timbuktu by now. “Hurry,” he orders tersely. 

Leo is crying now in earnest, because Derek is ignoring him and Stiles never came back and he isn’t getting his formula. Derek grits his teeth and drives, avoiding the roads back to Beacon Hills. Even though he wants to go back there desperately, or just plain _back_ , to the moment when he let Stiles walk into the store alone. 

Stupid. Stupid. So fucking stupid. 

He makes himself take the next few steps on autopilot. He finds a shitty motel and uses the Pryor ID to rent four rooms. The manager sees an alpha with a lost look in his eyes, holding a screaming baby with no omega in sight, and winces sympathetically, clearly thinking he’s just lost his mate. He finds a bottle in the baby bag to feed Leo, then manages to get the baby to sleep, periodically taking calls from the others to direct them to the right place throughout the night. 

When they arrive full of questions he gives them the barest details and then shuts himself into the bedroom with Leo. Outside the window the sun rises and he remembers waking up with Stiles yesterday. The way Stiles’s leg had hooked over his when he sprawled out in his sleep. He wonders if they’ve let Stiles sleep at all or if they’ve just been hurting him this whole time. 

When his phone rings sometime after noon he snatches it up and looks at the ID before answering, trying not to hope. “John,” he says tightly. 

“They mated him. To Kate Argent.” 

Derek covers the bottom of his phone with his hand. He feels a squeezing in his chest and he’s afraid he might actually whimper. Kate Argent, who had burned his house, and splashed gasoline over him in Eichen gleefully. The type of person who probably smashed down her friends’ Lego towers as a kid just for the momentary pleasure of destroying it. “Where is he now?” 

“He’s already been taken to her house.” 

“Can’t you…raid it? Or…?” 

“I’ve been fired. I can’t do anything. It’s gated, and they have guards, and if I try now, they might not let me see him when he really needs me.” 

“So you’re saying there’s _nothing?_ We have to just leave him there?” There has to be a way. Firepower, disguises, hell, _tunneling_ their way in if they have to… 

In his sleep, swaddled in the cocoon of towels and hotel sheets Derek had painstakingly made for him, Leo makes a tiny sound. Derek thinks of how delighted Kate would be to get her hands on his son. How delighted she would be to get her hands on _Derek_. He can’t orphan Leo this early in his life. 

“I’m saying there’s no way in for us, Derek,” John says quietly. “If Stiles is going to get out…” 

_He’s going to have to do it himself._

Stiles is the strongest omega Derek has ever known, but Derek remembers Eichen. If Derek hadn’t come, Stiles would have been broken beyond repair in there. But things are different now. Stiles has to know that Derek and Leo are out here, waiting for him. _Needing_ him. Maybe Stiles doesn’t need Derek to do the fighting for him now, not when Derek and Leo are what he’s fighting for. 

He hangs up the phone and soothes Leo when he wakes up with an earnest, cranky demand for Stiles. _Come on, Stiles,_ he thinks, staring outside as though he could see all the way back to Beacon Hills. _Get out of there and come back to us._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Non-consensual touching, non-consensual medical examination, forced mating contract, violence against an omega (slapped across the face and held by the neck for an extended period of time), elements of dehumanization (forced to wear a painful collar; forced name change; talked about as if not in the room.)
> 
> SPOILERS if you haven't read the chapter yet, and spoilers for what's upcoming:  
> On the Kate/Stiles, since I know it might squick a bunch of people out--the no-rape promise made in the beginning of the story is still true. The next chapter will have non-consensual touching and "light" sexual content (kissing, petting, sleeping in the same bed). If you want to bow out until that's done you should be safe to return the chapter after next, but again I'm bad at planning so it might be like a chapter and a half.  
> All that said, I promise this is more than just misery porn! Stiles being in the Argent house is actually going to have some important plot repercussions and will, I hope, make the eventual HEA feel earned. So it won't just be a misery slog if I do it right! And I'm going to try and write it quickly so I'm not making you wait on something depressing.  
> If you have anything that's specifically triggering and you'd like to know if it's going to be in the next chapter(s) feel free to ask in the comments and I'd be happy to let you know. And, of course, I'm happy to add any tags you feel necessary.
> 
> NEXT UP: Stiles makes some surprising discoveries in the Argent house, but mated life threatens to take him under completely.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW in the end notes

The Argent home smells like metal and something almost like formaldehyde. There’s a girl walking down the stairs with her nose in a book, but she looks up when Kate and Stiles walk through the door. Stiles recognizes her. Allison, a beta one year below him in school. She’d been friends with him and Scott when they were younger. “Aunt Kate? _Stiles?”_

“His name is Gen, Ally. He’s part of the family now.” Kate tightens his collar again, smiling proudly. “Isn’t he something?” 

“Hi, Allison,” Stiles says, voice dull. “I’ve never been happier.” 

Kate chuckles and prods him forward. The living room is full of people. Stiles recognizes Kate’s father Gerard. There’s an omega kneeling at his feet— in fact, every omega in the room is on their knees, wearing collars similar to Stiles’s. “Hi, everyone,” Kate says. “This is Gen. Unfortunately we can’t stay and chat, since he’s a bit too fragile to be around any alpha but me, but we’ll be down for dinner.” 

Stiles’s attention is drawn to an animal head mounted above the fireplace. He tries to tell himself that it’s a fake, or some kind of mutated bear, but it’s clearly a wolf’s head, teeth bared in a snarl and glass eyes staring dully at the Argents. Kate sees where his gaze is. “Oh,” she says happily. “A new addition. It turns out that if a werewolf is killed in wolf form, its body stays shifted. _That_ is one of Deucalion’s little friends— after he was outed and arrested the others tried to flee, but she didn’t get away in time.” 

Stiles can’t tell if she’s telling the truth or is just trying to horrify him. He stares over his shoulder at the mounted head as Kate leads him out of the room and up the stairs. 

“Our room,” she says, shouldering open a door at the end of the upstairs hallway. It’s dark and spacious, without a single picture or accent to personalize it. Kate kicks off her shoes and sits on the edge of the bed, pointing at the floor. “Kneel.” 

He sinks to his knees on the small, irregularly shaped fur rug by the edge of the bed. The fur is soft but wiry, imminently familiar under his hands. He thinks of the wolf’s head downstairs, this rug placed here for Kate to step on first thing every morning, and feels a twist in his stomach. _Please, Derek, be far away._

“So,” Kate says after a few moments just examining him. “How long until Derek comes for you?” 

“I don’t know where he is.” 

“Liar. I think he’s probably hunkered down in your little hidey-hole right now wondering why you never came home. He’ll come for you soon, won’t he?” Kate waits for an answer. “What? You really think silence is a sustainable course of action here?” 

Stiles raises a shoulder insolently. “I don’t know where he is, Alpha. Sorry.” 

“Of course you do. And either he’ll come for you, or you’ll tell us where he’s hiding and we’ll come for him. And you know— something tell me he’ll have a little puppy with him. I know the baby is still alive. If you come clean to me now, maybe I’ll forgo your punishment.” 

“Nope. I hope you didn’t pay too much for me. I can’t help you get Derek.” He knows that, at least— he’ll die before he gives her a single clue where the others might be. 

“Don’t be silly. Yes, I want to know where Derek and the pup are. But even without that little bonus, you’re still a prize. I’ve known for a while now I would have to take an omega soon— it’s my duty— but none of those limp dishrags the OSS peddles held any appeal. That’s the problem with the OSS system; they raise broken omegas rather than let alphas break them ourselves. The two of us are going to have so much fun, Gen, and then once that’s over we’ll have a life together. I want lots of children, and you’re apparently fertile enough to give them to me. It’s the life you were born for. Constantly having one baby squirming in your belly and another one at your breast. You won’t even miss Derek. I’ll be all you need.” 

Stiles doesn’t care to develop any kind of substantial reply to that, so he just offers up a succinct but heartfelt, “Fuck you.” 

“Aww. See? We’re already having fun.” Kate yanks him painfully to his feet, nearly dislocating his arm from its socket. “I know you think you’re bonded to Derek, but I’m stronger. I’m better. I’ll give you healthier, more beautiful children. And that’s what _really_ drives you, omega. So let’s get those instincts going.” 

He fights her. It’s stupid, and it’s pointless, and she’s right; his instincts are screaming at him not to anger the alpha but to just be passive and let her do what she wants. But a deeper part of him doesn’t want her to touch him under any circumstances, and that part is strong enough that he almost gets away. 

Then she uses the collar to drag him, choking him until he almost blacks out. When he’s able to gasp air into his lungs again they’re in the adjoining bathroom and Kate is trying to take off his clothes. 

He hears himself make an animalistic screeching sound and he tries to kick her away, but she pins him down. He feels each piece of clothing she removes: shirt. Pants. Underwear. She touches him intimately as she does so, measuring and approving, making a small sound of disgust when she feels the stretch marks his pregnancy left behind. “Some work to do,” she says cupping his penis in her hand clinically. “But you’ll get there.” 

She turns on the water in the shower, strips off her own clothes— he can see the holster where she carries her gun, empty now so he can’t get ahold of it— and forces him against the wall. He can smell her and only her in the steam that envelops him and his instincts cry at him to submit— that she will either give him pain or pleasure and he has to do everything he can to earn the latter. 

Kate washes him, laughing when he tries to struggle away from her. His feet slip on the wet floor and she catches him easily. “See?” she purrs. “I take care of you.” Her hands dip between his thighs, scrubbing between his ass. “Let’s get all that wolf-stink off of you— oh, this is _pretty_ , sweetheart!” Her fingers prod teasingly at his hole. “I thought Derek would have wrecked this, but he left it nice and tight for me.” 

“Don’t,” Stiles rasps. He’s afraid, with the steam and the scent and the touch; he doesn’t know how his body might respond. If he gets wet right now he’ll never forgive himself. 

“Shh, this is good for you. Don’t you want me touching you here? I know, I know, you’ve only had a man before, but it will be just as good with me— your body wants it just as much. How many of my fingers do you want? Did Derek train you enough that you could take the whole fist?” 

He stays completely still, head tilted into the shower spray like he’s trying to drown himself. Kate chuckles and takes her fingers away, but then she wraps her arms around his midsection. He can feel em>her pressed up against him; the foreign patch of hair and folds of her vagina. He imagines her fucking him with her fingers until he’s wet, then rubbing against him just like this until she’s ejaculating _inside_ of him— 

He gives escape one more try but she just catches him again, using the movement as an excuse to rub their bodies together. “All clean,” she coos, and shuts off the water. She dries them off with the same towel, then presses against him again to get her scent all over him. 

“It’s so silly of you to fight,” she says softly as he shivers beneath her. “Because then I just have to work a little harder to break you down. And that proves to you how strong I am; what a good alpha I’ll be to you and your babies, and just speeds along your submission. That’s why you’ll never win. I’m going to kiss you now. You’ll fight me, but I’ll do it anyway. And there’s going to be a part of you that just _loves_ that.” 

True to her word she presses her lips against his. He isn’t sure what would be worse, fighting or giving in, so he struggles at first and then goes limp. She seems to be enjoying herself and it goes on for a while before she finally rolls off of him and finds him clothes, simple loose white garments reminiscent of what he wore in Eichen. “Let’s eat,” she says cheerfully. 

The Argents all eat together at a huge table. The others are waiting when they come down, but the omegas don’t have seats at the table— they’re kneeling beside their alphas’ and betas’ chairs, heads bowed deferentially. Even the omega children are like that, waiting to be hand-fed by their alpha parent. Learning their place. Stiles feels sick. 

Kate pushes him down to kneel like the others and tries to feed him a piece of a dinner roll, but he knows full well that if he’s going to keep from giving in he can’t let her feed him; can’t be relying on her for such a basic need. He keeps his lip shut tightly and she just shrugs and continues eating. All around him he sees the other omegas accepting bites off of forks, looking up worshipfully every time they’re deemed worthy of the food. They clearly won’t be any help in getting out of here. 

“He’s not eating, Aunt Kate,” he hears Allison report softly. 

“I know, Ally. He’s trying to be difficult right now. Just ignore him.” 

“I could give him some of mine. I’m just a beta, it’s not like it would make him confused—” 

“No, we don’t reward his bad behavior. He’ll eat eventually.” 

“I can hear you,” Stiles says loudly. The table goes silent. The omega next to him buries her face in her alpha’s leg as if she doesn’t want to watch what’s about to happen. 

“Omegas don’t speak out of turn in this household,” Kate tells him, pushing back her chair. “That’s a very important lesson for you to learn. Now you have to be punished.” 

The word sends a jolt through him, fear mixed with fury. “Fuck you,” he spits, trying to get on his feet so he at least has a fighting chance against her. There are gasps around the table at the word. 

“All me to remind _all_ the omegas at this table that some things will never be tolerated,” Kates says loudly, grabbing Stiles around the neck and cutting off any chance he had at getting away. “I think…twenty-five is the proper number of spanks for your infractions, omega.” She forces him onto her lap and yanks down his pants, so his ass is hanging out in the open. Her palm caresses it lovingly. “Maybe thirty.” 

“Kate,” a middle-aged man says warningly. He’s sitting next to Allison with an omega kneeling between them. “This is inappropriate.” 

“I don’t take lessons in omega care from betas, Chris.” 

“Don’t punish him in front of everyone. It’s cruel to him and stressful for the other omegas.” 

“If he’s going to misbehave—” 

“Your brother is right,” Gerard Argent says sternly, seated at the far end of the table. “Omega discipline should be handled privately. Don’t show off.” 

For the first time Kate actually seems flustered. “Dad, I’m not…” 

“Take it upstairs. He needs to be controlled. That should be your primary focus, not impressing everyone at the table. Don’t bring him down here again until you can make him obey.” Gerard frowns at her. “Will you be able to do that?” 

“Of course,” Kate snaps. She stands, dragging Stiles up by the collar. “I apologize for my omega disrupting dinner.” 

“As you should. His behavior is a reflection on you, Katherine. Get him under control or I’ll take you over _my_ knee.” 

Kate’s cheeks are a bright red. She turns without another word and takes Stiles upstairs, walking so quickly it’s hard to keep up. Once they’re back in her bedroom she slams the door and immediately slaps Stiles across the face. 

“Proud of yourself?” 

It hurts, but seeing Kate ruffled is worth it. “Did I embarrass you in front of Daddy?” he mocks, adopting the same tone she had used on him earlier. Maybe if he pisses her off enough she’ll just kill him. That would be a quick way out. 

“God, you stupid little bitch. You think this is funny? Do you not realize you should be kissing my fucking feet right now?” Kate kicks his legs out from under him and grabs him by the hair. “You think the only danger here is to _you?_ Do you have any idea what I could do to Derek and your precious little baby?” Her fingers tighten, twisting his neck so painfully he wheezes. “You want to see, omega? Will that get the picture across?” 

Without warning she lifts him and drags him out of the room, down another hallway and back set of stairs. “The Argents have been werewolf hunters for generations,” she tells him over her shoulder. “And the Hales lived in _our_ territory— like they had any right…” her face is flushed with anger just thinking about it. 

“So congratulations,” Stiles rasps. “You killed them.” 

“Most of them. We’ve been waiting to complete the set for years, but your father kept standing in our way. Now that Derek’s a fugitive, and his pup is presumed dead, we can do anything we want. See, we don’t just kill werewolves; that’s a waste. We study them. We learn from them. We’re going to figure out how to destroy them all, _permanently._ ” Kate stops at a small door, unlocks it with a key she pulls from her pocket and prods Stiles down a narrow set of stairs. 

It smells fetid and is so dark his eyes won’t adjust; he has to cling to Kate so he won’t fall down the stairs. She turns on a single light hanging from the ceiling and Stiles finds himself staring into a tiny cell, bars stretching from the ceiling to block off about eight feet of space. There’s a naked girl curled up on filthy straw with her back to them. “Our current resident,” Kate says malevolently. “She’s been involved in a long-term project of ours. We want to see how long a werewolf can last without shifting before they lose their minds. She’s exceeded expectations.” Kate smacks the bars. “Wake up.” 

The girl whimpers and turns, scooting defensively into the far corner of the cell. Her eyes flash against the light. 

“It’s a shame you missed the last guest we had here, but his time ran out. First we tried to see what would happen if we shaved off all his hair— would he still have fur when he shifted? Then we took his legs, again to see what would happen when he shifted— then his ears— and eventually there wasn’t anything left.” Kate raises her voice to address the girl. “Remember him? You cried for days when he died. You’ll be getting new roommates soon.” 

The girl bares her teeth, pure hatred in her eyes. Kate shoves Stiles back up the stairs. “That’s what I could do to Derek and the baby,” she hisses in Stiles’s ear. “So go ahead, keep on disrespecting me. I know who I can make suffer for it. We could always keep one and just kill the other— behave and I’ll let you choose.” 

Stiles doesn’t answer. His mind reels as Kate shoves him back into the light and through the halls to their bedroom. She thinks he’s scared out of his wits, so horrified by what he saw he can’t speak, but that’s not it entirely. He’s stunned, seeing over and over that moment when the girl had bared her teeth and the planes of her face settled into something familiar. He’s seen that face before, recognized it instantly even though it’s sunken with starvation. 

The girl in the basement is _Cora Hale._

# 

He sleeps that night in Kate’s arms, tucked into sheets that smell like her. He stays awake for hours, thinking about Cora. Has she really been here for years, slowly being tortured by the Argents? The thought that she had made it somewhere safe was all that had kept Derek going for years. 

He imagines Derek in that cell. He thinks of Leo being tortured by the Argents, screaming in pain. He falls asleep picturing it and it blends into his nightmares, tormenting him until he wakes up moaning. Warm arms are holding him tight, a soft voice hushing him gently, and he burrows into the embrace before he realizes it’s Kate. 

“We’ll have breakfast here,” Kate says when he tries to roll away. “Since you can’t be trusted around my family.” 

“I won’t eat.” 

“You will eventually. You know that, don’t you?” 

He doesn’t answer. He’s afraid to start giving into things just because he knows he will eventually. He has to stay firm until the last possible moment, keep himself together for as long as he can. 

Kate forces him into the shower again, keeping him there until the water runs cold. “Here,” she says when they get out, handing him a pill. “Swallow. It’s to keep your heat cycle regulated.” 

“I’m not taking that.” 

“Omega, you need to have your heat. Think about it.” Kate’s hand plants across his midsection, rubbing a gentle circle. “Don’t you miss your little boy? Don’t you want another baby?” 

He shakes his head. 

“You looked so good when you were pregnant. Remember that? Remember the way he kicked? It would feel so nice to be pregnant again, to hold our sweet little baby. You’ll get to keep this one. You’ll just stay here every day and take care of it. And I won’t hurt you when you’re pregnant. Why are you fighting that?” Kate’s voice drops. “You know you aren’t getting out of here. You should start thinking about how to make the best of things.” 

Stiles opens his mouth to respond and Kate puts the pill on his tongue. She presses her thumb into his Adam’s apple, making him swallow. “Good boy,” she says as he splutters. “Now, usually I would have to go to work. Since you’re not house-trained yet we’ll just spend the day enjoying each other, hm?” 

“What will I do while you’re at work, Alpha?” 

“There’s housework to be done. You and the other omegas take care of the little ones together. It will all be very peaceful for you.” 

Only the omegas will be here. That means he’ll have full range of the house. 

The tiniest seeds of a plan start to grow. 

Kate dresses him in the same white clothes as yesterday, then makes him sit between her legs so she can brush his hair. He hears snipping and feels something soft fall on his cheek. He reaches up and sees it’s a tuft of hair. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Shh. Your hair is too long. I want it shorter.” 

“No, I— I like my hair…” 

“Just a trim so you don’t look so ragged. Either sit still or I’ll hold you down and buzz it.” 

He slumps, defeated, and waits until the clicking noises stop. “Perfect,” she murmurs, before standing him up so he can look at himself in the mirror. “Much better, don’t you think?” She strokes his cheek with her finger. “You look beautiful. I’m a lucky alpha to own such a beautiful omega.” 

She wants him to preen, he knows; to feel pride at the idea that he’s pleased her. He looks away from their reflection and stares at the ground. Kate sighs and strokes his hair. “I’m sorry I scared you last night,” she tells him, sounding genuine. “I was very angry. But that was…over-the-top.” 

He can’t tell if she’s playing him or not, but he decides to try and take the opportunity to play her. “I don’t want you to hurt Derek,” he mumbles, still staring at the ground. 

“Well, maybe I won’t have to. If you can show me that the bond between you is broken, and you belong to me now, not him…we could just forget about him.” 

She’s lying. He heard what she said last night. She’ll do anything to kill the last of the Hales. But he looks up under his eyelashes. “Really, Alpha?” 

“I have to see you making an effort. If you’re clinging to what you had with him, I can’t let him go. I won’t have my omega thinking of anyone but me.” 

He nods, takes a breath, and kisses her cautiously. She’s rigid with surprise for a moment and quickly breaks away. “Omega, that was bold.” 

“I thought…” 

“You don’t kiss me without permission. You may _ask_ for a kiss, no more. But I appreciate the effort.” She smiles and kisses him, holding his chin in place firmly. “Come here.” 

She sits on the bed again and pats between her legs. He kneels between them, stomach tight, and lays his head on her thigh when she pats the spot. The smell of her is at its richest and most overwhelming here. 

“Good boy,” Kate says. Her voice is soft; she appears to be enjoying this. Her hand brushes repetitively, almost hypnotically, over his freshly-cut hair. “Stay where you are.” 

He closes his eyes and breathes her in. He just has to play along for today. Then maybe tomorrow she’ll go back to work and he’ll be able to roam the house. 

When it was just him trapped here he’d been willing to give up. Take this life if it meant Derek and Leo would be safe. But that’s Derek’s sister downstairs, and he’s not going to let her die here. 

He’s going to find a way out for them both. 

# 

It takes three days of good behavior before Kate is pleased enough to take him back down to dinner. He accepts the food she feeds to him, telling himself that it’s just an act. He’s not really relying on her. This doesn’t mean anything. 

“I see you’ve been working hard,” Gerard says to Kate after it’s clear Stiles isn’t going to act up again. 

“Just needed to find the right tactic.” Kate smiles at Stiles and pats her lap. “Come here, sweetheart.” 

He perches on her lap silently and drinks from the cup she holds out to him. It’s even more embarrassing being up here and he can feel Allison staring at him. 

After dinner Kate takes him into the living room with the others and keeps him sitting between her legs. Next to him an alpha takes his dick out of his pants and feeds it into his omega’s mouth. “Must you?” Kate scolds. “My omega isn’t ready for all that yet.” 

“I had Ellie squirming on my cock the day I had her home. Not my fault you move slow.” 

Kate’s hand tightens in Stiles’s hair, annoyed. “Ellie wasn’t bonded before.” 

“Nobody told you to pick someone else’s leftovers.” 

Stiles can feel Kate’s fury. “I did it for the family, you asshole! You just picked the omega you thought was prettiest. You think that makes you a better alpha than me?” 

“Oh, dear,” Gerard drawls. “The alphas are pissing again.” He settles back into his chair, but Stiles thinks he’s enjoying this. “Go on, you two, lock horns.” 

The other alpha chuckles. “Unlike Kate, I’m a bit occupied.” 

“I could fuck my omega right here and now and have him _screaming_ for it.” 

“So do it, Kate. We’d all love to see, I’m sure.” 

“You know what? I think I will.” Kate flips Stiles onto his stomach and presses him into the ground with her foot. Her hands scrabble at his waistband and he panics. Not this; he can’t play along this much; he can’t let her… 

“Aunt Kate! You can’t! You have to wait for his heat or he won’t bond to you!” Allison’s voice is shrill. Kate hesitates, hands still holding Stiles down while he shakes. After a moment she sighs and lets him go. 

“Allison’s right.” She sinks back into her chair, sneering at her brother. “But when his heat hits, I’m going to _wreck_ him. Just you wait.” 

Her brother flips her off and then turns his attention back to his omega. Stiles closes his eyes while Kate pets him, soothing him from the panic she just caused. 

He can feel Allison watching him for the rest of the evening. 

# 

The next morning he takes the pill Kate gives him without complaint. When she tells him she has to go to work he rubs his head against her chest a little, as if he doesn’t want her to leave. She laughs at him. “If you weren’t an omega, I would wonder if this was an act.” 

“Don’t want you to hurt me,” Stiles mumbles, eyes to the floor. 

“And I don’t want to hurt you. So thank you for not making me.” She kisses him again before she leaves. He watches her put her holster on. She must be keeping her gun in a different room. “Time to go.” She adjusts his collar. “Pretty boy. Be good for me.” 

He waits for a while, kneeling on the floor of the bedroom until the door downstairs has slammed shut several times. The house is silent and he wonders if the other omegas actually do anything like Kate said or if they just sit in the living room waiting for their alphas. 

He cracks open the door cautiously. Nothing. The floor squeaks a little and he tries to move lightly, retracing the steps Kate had taken to lead him to Cora. 

“Stiles?” 

He nearly jumps out of his skin and turns around guiltily. “Allison?” 

The beta blushes, hanging back. She must have just stepped out of her room. “I…I guess I’m supposed to call you Gen now.” 

“I’d rather you didn’t.” 

“I know, but it’s easier.” She stares at him. “What are you doing?” 

“Um…I wanted to find some food. Kate hasn’t been feeding me much.” 

Allison gives him an exasperated look. “You and I both know you’re not heading anywhere near the kitchen.” 

“I…hey, what are _you_ doing here?” 

“I stayed home from school. I wanted to talk to you without my aunt around.” 

He tries not to feel hopeful. “Why?” 

“I just…I don’t know. I wanted to see if you were okay. Especially after last night. Kate’s kind of…” Allison trails off. “Well, I remember the way you were when we were kids, and I…I know Kate’s not the alpha you would have chosen.” 

“No.” Stiles almost laughs. “She wasn’t exactly what I dreamed about. Can you help me?” 

Allison looks sick. “Help you what? _Escape?_ ” 

“Not today. Today I need something else.” He throws caution to the wind. “Do you know what your family has been doing to innocent people down in your basement?” 

“You mean the werewolves?” 

“I mean the _people_ , Ally. They’re people just like you and me. And your family is torturing and murdering them.” 

Allison’s color rises defensively. “Werewolves are dangerous. They want to kill all of us, make the omegas carry their babies and murder alphas so they can be the strongest—” 

“My son is a werewolf,” Stiles says quietly. 

“Your— you have a _son?_ ” 

“Yes. He’s only a month old. He’s one of the reasons Kate wants me— so she can find him and torture him, too. Do you know what your family is really doing to werewolves? Have you ever gone down to the basement?” 

Allison shakes her head slowly. “My dad doesn’t want me to. He…he doesn’t always agree with my grandfather, but he’s just a beta, like me, so there’s nothing he can do.” 

“They have a girl down there. An omega. I know her. I have to talk to her.” He raises his hands pleadingly when Allison shakes her head. “Just to talk, Ally! All I need is for you to get me down there.” 

“We’d get in so much trouble,” she whispers. 

“Keep lookout for me. I just want to talk to her. Kate never has to know.” 

Allison fidgets. “Ten minutes,” she bargains. 

“Fine. Do you have a key to the basement?” 

“I can get it from my grandfather’s study. Are you sure you want to do this? If Kate finds out…” 

“I’m sure,” Stiles says firmly. 

# 

Allison tells him she’ll stomp the floor when his time is up, and if he doesn’t come back upstairs _immediately_ she’ll come and get him. He takes the flashlight she offers and makes his way down the stairs. 

“Cora?” he whispers. He shines the flashlight directly into her cell. She’s awake, huddled up against the wall. She looks feral. “Cora, can you understand me?” He crouches by the cell and she hisses, bounding forward in a single breath and grabbing his collar. He chokes as she twists it so he can’t breathe. “Cora!” he wheezes. “I’m here to help you!” 

“Fuckers,” she hisses. “Lying little fuckers.” Her voice is raw. “What’re you, the sacrificial goat? I get a live meal today?” Her fingers tighten and he sees black, and honestly, he is _really_ sick of being choked to the point of unconsciousness. 

“I know Derek!” he gasps and Cora lets him go immediately. He stumbles backwards, coughing, and sees that she’s gone limp. 

“Derek,” she repeats brokenly. 

“You brother. I’m his mate, Cora, I— ” 

She covers her ears with her hands and rocks back and forth, keening. Great. She’s been driven insane. “Don’t lie to me,” she whines. “Stop it, stop it. Derek. I want Derek!” Her voice rises into a shriek and he wonders if the basement is soundproofed. 

“I’m not lying!” Stiles thinks frantically. “You had another omega sibling. His name was Hayden. You guys— you used to shift during the day. Your parents said you could shift whenever you wanted; that wolves liked the sunlight just as much as anyone else.” 

Cora’s hands fall away from her face. She stares at him. 

“Your mom. She used to whittle. She was teaching Derek. He still does it, Cora. He got so good he was able to make a cradle for our baby.” 

“Baby?” she repeats. 

“We had a son. Your nephew. We named him Leo. I know, it was dumb to name a werewolf after a lion. Derek told me. But it just fit. He’s with Derek now. Derek is such a good dad. He sings Leo this lullaby sometimes…uh…” Stiles tries to remember the words. “ _The moon is here to say goodnight and watch over us until daylight, sleep, my baby, and I’ll be here_ —” 

“ _So your dreams are sweet and without fear_ ,” Cora finishes in a whisper. 

“That’s it!” 

“But you…they put you in a collar.” 

“I know. They’re trying to keep me away from Derek and our baby. But I’m going to get out of here with you, Cora. I promise. I just need your help. Where do they keep the key to this cell?” 

Cora stares at him for another moment, probably trying to hear his heartrate. “I don’t know. They bring it with them.” 

“What does it look like?” 

She looks kind of lost. “It’s… it’s a key.” She shakes her head, chewing at her nail nervously. He has a feeling this is the first conversation she’s had in a while that didn’t involve thumb screws. 

“Like this?” He holds up the key to the basement. 

“Bigger. It’s gold.” 

“Does someone bring you food?” 

“One of the omegas, every day.” She shudders. “They don’t talk to me. They have the collar like you.” 

“Okay. Okay, that’s really good, Cora. That helps.” 

Right above his head he hears Allison stomp. His heart sinks. He needs more time. “I have to go now, Cora.” 

“Don’t,” she begs. 

“I’ll be back. I’ll never, ever leave you here. I swear. Derek’s missed you so much— he thought you ran away, or he would have come for you himself— ” 

“I did,” she whispers. “I ran away. But I was coming back for him. I left the group to get Derek…I wasn’t supposed to but I couldn’t just leave him— ” 

Stiles hesitates. “What do you mean, left the group?” 

“I came back here with the others. We were supposed to find omegas and take them home with us so they would be safe. I was never supposed to leave the group, because if one of us got caught it would all be over. They wouldn’t let us come any more. But I’d been away from Derek for so long, and I wanted him to come with me.” 

“To the camps, Cora? Are you talking about the camps up north? You _found_ them?” 

She scowls and shakes her head. “Not camps,” she hisses. “Up north. You have to look…” Allison stomps the floor again and Cora looks up, panicked. “Gerard Argent knows,” she says desperately. “He made me show it on the map. Find the map. He keeps it somewhere.” 

“Find the map,” Stiles repeats, backing up to the stairs. “Okay, Cora.” He takes the stairs two at a time, mind working double-time. Where would Gerard Argent keep a _map?_

Allison is white by the time Stiles reaches her. “Someone came home,” she hisses. “I heard the front door open. Nobody even knew I stayed home today, and I have to get this key back to my grandfather’s study somehow…” 

“I’ll do it,” Stiles says quickly. 

“No, you—” 

“I don’t want you to get in trouble. You go to your room and I’ll take it down. I think Kate’s expecting me to act up anyway, so whatever. It’s fine.” 

Allison looks torn, but eventually she nods. “Okay. He keeps all his keys in the top drawer. He has a bunch of copies, but I don’t know if he’ll notice one missing, so just put it back and hurry out.” 

“Okay.” He has no intention of putting the key back. “Thank you, Ally.” 

She goes to her room and he heads downstairs. The map has to be in Gerard’s study. He finds the room Allison described, thinks for a second how careless she was to leave the door open, and steps inside, only to immediately panic and freeze in the doorway. 

Allison’s father Chris is seated at the desk. “Gen!” he says in surprise when he sees Stiles frozen. “Are you looking for Kate?” 

He shakes his head and tries to back out. 

“No, you can stay.” Chris’s voice is soft, almost pitying. “I bet it gets lonely in that room all by yourself. My omega has trouble staying home all day too. Why don’t you sit?” 

Stiles sits across from him cautiously. “I had to run home and email some files for my father,” Chris tells him, typing quickly. “Never a dull moment around here. Kate won’t be back till around three.” 

“Okay.” 

“Are you…are you doing all right? I know the first few weeks of mated life can be tough.” Chris seems to be struggling not to say too much. “Kate’s just trying to establish her dominance in your life right now. Once things have settled down a little, it will be much better for you.” 

“What if it doesn’t get better?” Stiles whispers. He lets tears well up in his eyes. “What if she keeps hurting me?” 

Chris swallows hard. “Once you’re pregnant she’ll take such good care of you. Just think about that. All you have to do is get pregnant and— ” 

“I don’t want to be pregnant again! I don’t want a baby with _her!_ ” Stiles hunches forward, letting the tears overflow. Chris is horrified. He jumps up from the desk and tries in vain to comfort Stiles without actually touching him. 

“Why don’t I call her?” Chris suggests desperately. “I think you’re just destabilized without her. Would that make you feel better?” 

“No!” 

“You need to calm down, or I’m going to have to call her.” 

Stiles lets his sobs taper off. “Water,” he begs, and Chris stands, looking relieved. 

“I’ll be right back. Just…stay calm.” 

As soon as he’s out the door Stiles moves to the other side of the desk. He opens the top drawer and searches through it— there are copies and copies of different keys. He sees several gold ones neatly stacked and grabs one, stuffing it into his pocket beside the other. 

He tries the other drawers, but no map. There’s a file cabinet behind the desk and he rifles through it, trying to keep from panicking. Papers, papers, papers— _there._ A tightly folded map hidden in a purple folder. He yanks it out and folds it as tightly as it will go before stuffing it into the waistband of his pants. He shuts the file cabinet and scrambles back into his seat just as Chris returns with the water. 

“It’s all right,” Chris says gently, evidently interpreting his red face and shaking hands as an impending anxiety attack. “You’re going to be okay. It’s totally normal for your emotions to be in flux right now. Just let Kate take care of you and everything will be all right.” 

Stiles nods. He chugs half the glass and looks up at Chris through teary eyes. “I need to go back to my room. I just…I need her scent.” 

Chris looks relieved. “That’s good, Gen. That’s a really good sign. Go lie down on the bed. She’ll be home soon.” 

Stiles walks out slowly so Chris won’t hear the map crinkling. When he reaches the stairs he bolts, practically flying to Kate’s room. He locks himself in the bathroom and spreads the map out on the ground. 

For a second he’s confused. It’s just an ordinary map of the United States. Then he sees writing on it, what Cora must have shown Gerard. There’s a dark, jagged line towards the top marked **BORDER**. There are a few softer lines trailing down from it ending in circled locations within the States, labelled **Collection Points**. 

Someone’s placed a sticky note where the border line is. _Border guarded by soldiers on our side. CH knows where they’re stationed. Groups would sneak past them to bring omegas back from the States._

He sees another sticky note at one of the “collection points” circles. _CH group. She left it to come to Beacon Hills. Others…? She says the rule was if someone didn’t come back all rescue missions would be called off._

And a third, above the border line into what Stiles had always thought was unoccupied territory: _Pop. unknown. Several thousand? CH wouldn’t give city breakdowns or any new information. Continue to press her for details._

Stiles hears the door open downstairs and he folds the map back up. He hides it and the keys behind Kate’s dresser and returns to kneel on the rug. He presses his face into the covers of Kate’s bed, both for show and to try and calm himself down. 

The bedroom door squeaks open and a soft hand cups Stiles’s cheek. “Chris called,” Kate murmurs. “He said you were having a difficult time without me.” 

Stiles nods. He’s barely paying attention to her. He keeps thinking about the map. 

“Oh, honey. You’re about to have a panic attack, aren’t you? I’ll take care of it.” Kate’s voice is almost kind. She takes off his collar and squeezes his neck in a control hold. He hangs his head, but this time he doesn’t let his brain go fuzzy. She’s wrong, he’s not having a panic attack. 

It’s just that it turns out there really is a Santa Claus, after all. 

# 

“Cora,” he whispers the next day after sneaking back down to the basement. “I found the map.” 

She stares at him gravely through the bars of her cell and nods. 

“You said you didn’t find the camps. That’s because there are no camps, are there? It’s a whole _country_.” Stiles’s heart beats painfully. He feels like a hummingbird who has just seen through the bars of his cage to the birds outside. 

“Canada,” Cora whispers. The word floats tantalizingly in the air. “It’s always been there. The OSS lied. Those people who lived there never came to America. They didn’t like the OSS system. But the OSS didn’t want Americans to know their way wasn’t the best way.” 

Stiles closes his eyes. He’s heard that party line all his life— that the OSS system is what keeps them from being like every other country, where omegas are subject to honor killing and incestuous matings and rape. That the OSS system elevates them above everywhere else. What a good way to keep them all in place: by telling them this is the best they could ever have. 

“How did you find it?” 

“When I ran away I met some people out in the woods. There’s this treaty between the countries so nobody is ever supposed to cross the border, but Canada sent people over secretly to find omegas and rescue them. They took me with them. Eventually I joined them so I would be allowed to come back over. I wanted to find Derek, so I split from the group…” Cora trails off. Stiles can see tears in her eyes. 

“And that’s when the Argents caught you,” Stiles guesses quietly. 

“I broke the rules. My group leader told me not to leave. We had to be so careful, because of the treaty. If the Americans caught us, the treaty might be broken. So they said, if someone got caught, that would be the end of it. No more rescuing omegas. And I fucked up.” Cora covers her face with her hands and cries. 

Liam’s friends. No wonder they’d never found any of them. They’d stopped coming. “Cora, could you find your way back there? Could you get us over the border?” 

She nods. “I know where the Americans guard the border. But now the Argents know too— they were torturing me; I had to tell them—” 

“That’s okay.” Stiles had always assumed the Argents bribed the OSS to get what they want, but if they knew the OSS’s worst secret, no wonder they thought they were so invincible. They could be blackmailing the entire government with this. “We’re going to get out of here and find Derek and the others. Then you’re going to get us across the border. Okay?” 

“How?” 

“I found the key to your cell.” Stiles tries it and sighs with relief when the lock pops open. Cora bounds forward, ready to charge out, but he grabs her arm. “Not yet! Just give me a little bit of time to figure out how to get away from the house.” 

“Please hurry,” she whispers. 

“I will.” He knows he’s working against the clock. If he goes through a heat with Kate, he’ll bond to her. He won’t be able to leave. “Just a little while longer. Stay strong, okay?” 

She squeezes his hand through the cell, eyes huge in her sunken face. “You too,” she whispers. 

# 

He behaves himself for the next few days, unable to get outside the house when all the other omegas are there. It’s hard. Knowing what’s out there is a caffeine jolt, but he still feels deadened by life with Kate. His body is becoming more and more attuned to her. Every negative emotion he feels— fear at the thought of running away; sadness at the thought of Derek and Leo without him; anger at the thought of what they’d done to Cora— just makes him want to turn to Kate for comfort. 

As an omega he recognizes every alpha as either a threat or a potential provider and protector. With Kate constantly at his side, soothing and petting him and keeping a firm hand on his shoulder when other alphas are around, the line between threat and protector blurs. His body keeps telling him to submit, so she won’t hurt him. Let himself be taken care of. Forget the alpha who couldn’t keep him safe; forget the child he’d had with that worthless alpha. 

The world outside the Argent house is so big— bigger than he’d even known. That terrible weak part of him whispers it’s not worth it. He should stay where he can be provided for and do what he’s meant to do. 

But his friends. His family. He tries to hold on to the thought of them. They matter, and they make _him_ matter. He’s more than Kate Argent’s omega. If he forgets that, he’s finished. 

That Friday Kate doesn’t go to work. “We’re going to the doctor’s,” she tells Stiles, picking out clothes for him to wear. “If you continue this streak of good behavior, maybe we’ll have lunch together. Hm? I can show off what a well-behaved omega I have.” 

He feels a swoop in his stomach, a pleased reaction to the pride in her voice. He’s running out of time before his body betrays him. 

He watches carefully as she drives off the estate. The gate isn’t manned by actual people, he sees with relief— there’s a little keycard hanging from the car mirror that the gate reads before it opens. He can’t tell where the mountain ash is but he’ll have to break the line before he can get Cora out. 

As they drive Kate puts a hand on his thigh and rubs. His body reacts almost instantly, aroused without his permission. This is happening more and more frequently. Kate notices when his breathing harshens. “Good boy,” she praises, and he wriggles in his seat, hating the way his body responds to the words. 

When they reach the doctor’s office Kate checks him in and then finds a seat. “Kneel,” she orders, and he balks— all the other omegas with their alphas have their own chairs. “ _Kneel_ ,” she repeats, steel in her voice, and he sinks to his knees instantly. She smiles and strokes his hair, showing off to the other alphas in the room. She’s wearing her gun. Over the past few days she’s worn it all the time, clearly not seeing him as a threat anymore. 

In the examining room his legs are put in stirrups and he’s prodded by the doctor before a blood sample is taken. Kate stays close by his side, keeping her hands on him possessively. “It’s only been about two weeks, but he’s responding well to me,” she tells the doctor, sounding a little smug. “I think the old bond he had is largely eradicated. He just needed to be dominated by someone stronger.” 

The doctor shrugs noncommittedly. “If he had a child with another alpha, there’s going to be a strong bond. I wouldn’t rely on anything until he’s gone through a heat with you.” 

“The other alpha is gone.” 

“Gone, but if he’s not dead…there’s still a connection there. He’s probably feeling confused right now, and that’s what’s driving the good behavior you’re seeing— he’s scared, and trying to adjust to his new situation, and since you’re the closest alpha to him he’s turning to you for stabilization. But that’s not a real bond. Once you’ve seen him through a heat; once he’s relied on you totally through that process— then you’ll have replaced the old bond and he’ll be yours.” 

Kate scowls and is quiet through the rest of the examination, then takes the doctor outside to speak privately. Stiles lays silently on the cot. Kate won’t be happy to hear that. He’s seen enough of her to know that she’s constantly trying to establish her dominance. One of the reasons she wanted him was because he had already been claimed— so she could destroy the bond of another alpha. Take his omega and make him hers, just because she could. 

The doctor comes back in with Kate and smiles reassuringly at Stiles. “Just one quick shot before your alpha can take you home, honey.” She injects his upper arm while Kate rubs his back soothingly. “There. All finished. Give me a call if you have any problem, Alpha Argent. I’m sure my colleagues downstairs will be seeing you very soon.” 

“Thank you,” Kate chirrups, helping Stiles off the bed. She checks out while Stiles turns the words over in his mind. _Colleagues downstairs?_

As they walk out the clinic door he sees a building directory and shudders. They’re on Level Three now. Level Two is obstetrics. 

Kate is in a strange mood as she drives home. They don’t stop for lunch like she had suggested, which is odd; he would have thought she’d want to drag him around on his knees for everyone to see. “You want to know why I hate werewolves?” she says to him softly as they drive, voice thoughtful. 

“Why, Alpha?” 

“Because they want to make us the weaker species. I may be a human, but I’m an alpha. I’m not about to let some hybrid creature dominate me. And god only knows what those monsters would do to our omegas if we let them have free reign.” Kate stares at him. “Don’t you understand that? They’re not better than us. They’re freaks. And we can’t let them win.” 

Stiles nods and turns to look out the window so he won’t betray anything on his face. No wonder Kate wants him to bond to her now. She’s threatened by werewolves. By stealing a werewolf’s omega; destroying the bond the werewolf had forged— it’s establishing her dominance in a way she’s never been able to before. 

“It’s all right,” Kate says kindly, thinking he’s afraid. “I’m not angry at _you_. You couldn’t help what happened to you. Derek forced those feelings on you. But that doesn’t matter anymore. You’re mine now.” 

“I’m yours,” Stiles whispers. 

“And I’ll keep you safe. Safer than he ever kept you. He was so bad for you. I need you to see that.” 

“I do, Alpha.” 

“No, you don’t. Not yet. But you will. I’ll show you who the better alpha is.” 

The world whips by outside. He watches the sky and tries to hold on to an image of Derek and Leo in his mind, but the image keeps fading, as if it had never existed. 

# 

When he wakes the next morning he feels strange. He can smell Kate surrounding him but it’s like he doesn’t connect it with _her_ , just with the primal knowledge of _alpha_. He feels flushed and needy, not quite sick but something else. 

It’s a feeling that’s familiar, but it takes him a moment to place it. He’s supposed to have another two weeks; a full month from when he was taken. But he remembers the look on Kate’s face yesterday before she took the doctor outside for a private chat; the shot the doctor gave him after they came back; the way the doctor had said they would likely be seeing the obstetrician soon— 

Kate has forced him into an early heat. 

If he spends it with her, he’ll be bonded to her. He’ll most likely be pregnant with her baby. He’ll never be able to force himself to leave then. 

With every bit of strength in his body he tries to slide out of the bed. This is his last chance to escape. 

Kate’s hand clamps down on his arm, dragging him back into bed. “Where’re you going?” she mumbles, eyes still closed. She sniffs the air and her eyes pop open, gleaming predatorily. “Trying to run away?” 

Real tears fill his eyes when she pulls him close, purring delightedly. “Beautiful boy,” she croons. “I’ve been waiting for this.” She smiles at him and prods at his hole, fingering him until he can feel that traitorous slick. He’ll be begging for it soon, he knows. Like a mindless animal. “Oh, my omega. We’re about to have _so_ much fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Non-con touching; Stiles is forced to shower with Kate; threatened spanking; threatened/attempted rape; humiliation (forced kneeling, forced feeding; hair-cutting); slapping; violent threats; forced heat  
> NEXT UP: With his time running out, Stiles makes a desperate move


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the last time (hopefully): trigger warning in the end notes

He runs. It’s pointless, but he goes for it, kicking Kate away and lunging for the door. In the back of his mind he knows that it’s a waste of time and energy. He’d just needed to try one last time. So maybe he can be proud of his last few moments as Stiles Stilinski, before he really does become Gen Argent. 

Kate grabs him and pins him to the bed. “I’m not in the mood for that game,” she says, pulling his shirt over his head. She trails her hand down his chest, dragging her nails across the skin. “Tell me how much you want me.” 

He shakes his head, straining away. 

“Omega.” Kate’s voice is cajoling. She leans over him, pressing her breasts against his naked chest, flooding his nose with her scent. “Tell me what you want.” 

_Derek_

 _Leo._

He can’t see their faces. He can’t even remember why he wants _them_ when there’s an alpha here to take care of him. She is offering herself to him and to be taken by an alpha, to be _bred_ , is life itself. 

He knows what he wants. But now and here, in heat with Kate Argent, what he wants is secondary to what he needs. And what he needs— 

“Please, Alpha, _please_ fuck me.” 

“That’s what you want, sweetheart?” 

He nods. He’s crying and the tears feel cold on his cheeks, that’s how hot he is. “Please _please_ , I need you, I need—” 

“Shh, shh. Poor thing. I’ll take care of you. But you have to be good for me, right?” She strokes his cheek. “You know you have to be a good boy before you deserve me.” 

He barely understands the words, but he nods. 

“That’s it. Such a good omega.” Kate leans in until her lips are a breath away. He waits for the kiss, needing it like air, but instead she whispers, “Tell me where Derek is.” 

He freezes. 

_Derek_

 _Leo._

Cora in the basement; Derek locked up with her; Leo torn apart by the Argents… 

“I don’t know, Alpha.” 

“Don’t lie to me. I won’t have it. Where is he? Where are all the omegas he took from Eichen?” Her touch is rougher now. “Where’s the baby, omega? Your alpha is asking you a question. Tell me.” 

“I don’t know! They left where we were hiding after I got caught. I don’t know where they went. _Please,_ Alpha!” 

“Tell me where you were hiding before.” 

He hesitates. What if Derek came back? What if there’s something there that can point her to them? 

“I…I don’t…” 

Kate slaps him. It hurts more than usual in his oversensitive state and he mewls, trying to grab her hand before it’s gone, wanting to press it to the spot so she can make it better. Alphas take the pain away. Or maybe that’s just Derek; he can’t even remember anymore… 

“Tell me where he is or you’ll get nothing from me, omega. Is that monster really worth it?” She leans away from him. He can still smell her, her scent clinging to his skin. It drives him crazy. 

“P-promise you won’t hurt him.” 

“I don’t make promises to you. I’m an alpha, and he’s challenging me for your affection. I’m going to kill him, and you’re going to watch, and once he’s dead you’ll finally know who you belong to. Tell me where he is so I can do what I have to.” 

“My son—” 

“He’s not mine. I won’t raise a child that belongs to another alpha. You won’t want him when Derek’s dead. You’ll know he’s a weak offspring, since he came from such a weak alpha.” 

“No!” 

“That’s the law of nature. What, omega? I thought this is what you wanted. Why else would you choose a _monster_?” Kate’s voice is scornful. “I’m giving you exactly the kind of alpha you wanted. You tried to find the strongest alpha out there to dominate you just _exactly_ the way you needed. But he wasn’t the strongest choice. He couldn’t even protect you.” She softens her voice and her touch, dragging her hand over his cheek soothingly. “You don’t need him. I’m here now.” 

_I’m here now_. 

The words trigger something. A memory, something concrete. 

_I’m here now,_ he’d said to Derek that very first day when they’d met in the woods. 

And, _I’m here now_ , Derek had whispered to him inside Eichen. 

_I’m here now_. And what they’d both meant, even though they’d said it for such different reasons, at such different times, was _I will not leave._

He remembers Derek that day in the woods, and Derek inside Eichen, and Derek a thousand other times when he was there with Stiles and he did not leave. Somewhere, right now, he’s waiting for Stiles. He’ll always be waiting. For as long as he is, Stiles can’t give up. 

_I’m here_ , he thinks to Derek, and shoves Kate’s hands away. “Derek’s not a monster,” he says, feeling tremors rack his body at the need to be touched. “You are. And I won’t— ” 

Her face goes dark red with anger at his disobedience and she slaps him to shut up him. While he reels from the blow she gets out of the bed and grabs him, easily picking him up around the waist. “Fine,” she says loudly over his shouts. “I’m not the desperate one here. I’ll just wait you out.” She carries him across the room, pausing only to whack his head purposefully against the dresser so he’ll go limp. He’s dazed for a minute and when he comes back to himself she’s tying his arms to something. 

“What are you doing?” He tries to struggle but he’s tied too tightly. She moves behind him and hikes him up until his ass is in the air, then ties to legs to something padded. He realizes what’s happening and feels a shockwave of horror even as the forced position triggers another overwhelming wave of lust and slick. 

She’s put him in a breeding bench. 

“This heat could last for as long as a week,” she tells him, bending down so she’s looking him directly in the face. “You won’t get a single touch from me for as long as you refuse to tell me where Derek is. You’ll stay right here, ready and waiting. You won’t last.” 

He moans. She’s right _there._ He can smell her. He needs to touch her and it’s torture, so terrible he finds himself desperately biting the ball gag built into the bench just so he won’t say something he regrets. 

“I’ll be right over here.” She crosses to sit on the bed, so he can see her out of the corner of her eye. “I think I’ll start playing with myself. Maybe I’ll make myself come. Waste all that alpha juice that should be going to you. Just call when you’re ready for me.” 

He thrashes in his bonds, trying his best to shake out of his own skin. 

# 

True to her word she waits him out, ignoring the sounds he makes as the heat builds inside of him. Pretty early on she clamps something over her nose, some kind of blocker so the smell of him in heat won’t overwhelm her. In the bench he has no way to relieve himself from the pressure of the heat. He can only wait, tied up like some sort of human present. 

He watches her get dressed. She slides her gun into her holster and rests her hand on it, a symbol of her power. His instincts scream at him to submit to her. To just be _good_. It’s like his very soul is being split in two. 

He tries to hold on by imagining how Derek would be handling this right now; how he would give Stiles everything he needs, but the thoughts just confuse his body and make him more desperate for Kate. 

In short: even when he isn’t being fucked, he’s fucked. He’s going to give in to her. It’s only a matter of time. 

Kate leaves the room a few times, knowing how torturous it is for him to feel her walking away. Whenever he’s gone he tries to clear his head, but it’s hard to focus on his surroundings. At one point he senses someone walking towards him, but he can tell it isn’t Kate. A hand touches his head. “Oh my God,” the person mutters. “You poor kid.” 

Chris Argent. He’s a beta and pretty much useless to Stiles right now, but Stiles still cats into the touch desperately. 

“Chris, Chris. Aren’t we too old to steal each other’s toys?” Footsteps creak the floor and the scent of alpha overwhelms him again. 

“Let him out of there, Kate. This is too far.” 

“He needs to learn.” Kate crouches down by Stiles. “Hm, omega? Are you going to talk? Just tell me where you were hiding before you were caught and I’ll reward you.” 

The words dance on the tip of his tongue. _The Hale House_. But he knows she’ll want more. If he tells her that eventually he’ll tell her about the keys and map hidden behind the dresser, or about his plans to get Cora to lead them north, or about the omegas Derek turned into werewolves… 

“This is no way to establish a bond,” Chris says softly. 

“What would you know about bonds, Chris? If I wanted to, I could take Victoria away from you in a heartbeat. Get out before I do.” 

Chris hesitates, but soon Stiles hears him walk away. “You must be getting hungry,” Kate says. “I could feed you, if you’d just be willing to talk…” 

He clamps his mouth shut. _Ha_. After all those years of people saying his biggest flaw was his inability to shut up, just look at him now. 

“Fine. You can sleep there.” She walks away and snaps off the light before getting into bed. He imagines himself in bed with her, her arms tightly around him, enveloping him with her scent. The image makes him bite his lip so fiercely he nearly chews it off. 

He can’t sleep when he’s in heat like this, but he drifts, feeling the same way he had when he was sick. He feels almost resigned when the hallucinations start and with what little sense he has he hopes he at least gets something good— a specter of Derek or his dad— but instead the only person he imagines is there through the night is a girl. A pregnant girl who stares gravely at him, face flickering in and out of his consciousness. 

It’s not until the sun rises outside and she starts to fade that he realizes who it is. 

The omega who never left Eichen. 

The one he failed. 

_Heather_. 

She bends down next to him and breathes into his ear: _You know what to do_. 

And then she’s gone. 

“How are we feeling this morning, omega?” Kate asks loudly, turning on the light. 

He turns his face away from her, heart pounding unsteadily from the restless night. 

“Really? _Still?_ ” Kate sounds legitimately pissed at him. “Who do you think you’re impressing here? You’re only hurting yourself.” She stops a few feet away and his every synapse _screams_ for just a touch. “You’re in heat. Your body needs to be bred right now. Instead— look at you. You’re _useless_. Why are you wasting yourself like this?” 

He’s afraid to say something that will make her walk away. He doesn’t think he could handle that. 

“You can never change what you are, you know.” She takes a step closer and he almost drools with want. “For the rest of your life you’ll be an omega. Having your heats, being bound to your alpha. You’re not fighting me right now, you’re fighting yourself. And you can’t change what you are. So why are you wasting your time?” 

The words pierce him just the way her scent does. Because she’s right. He can’t change what he is. He can’t change his situation. He can only adapt to it. 

He can only give in. 

She sighs and goes to get dressed. “I’m going to eat breakfast with my family,” she says. “But when the house is empty I’m going to come upstairs and I’m going to hurt you. You’re in heat— vulnerable, sensitive, and weak. How do you think your body will respond when an alpha starts punishing you?” 

The answer is unavoidable. He’ll fall apart. He’ll do anything to stop himself from being hurt; submit without even thinking. 

“I’d hate to make our first time together that unpleasant, but this is what you drive me to. Think about how you want this to end. You have a half hour.” 

She leaves. He writhes in his restraints uselessly, knowing that there’s nowhere to go. He is not stronger than her. He can’t just change the way his body works. 

_Derek will always be waiting_ …but he shouldn’t be waiting for Stiles any more. It’s over. There’s no more fighting. No more hope for tomorrow. 

When Kate comes back, he’s giving up for good. 

# 

He hears the house slowly start to clear of people, the door downstairs slamming closed multiple times. As he waits his vision blurs with tears. 

_Sorry, Derek. Sorry, Leo. Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Dad…_

God. Whose stupid idea was it to love anyone? It just means having more people to eventually disappoint. 

“Omega? Am I going to have to hurt you?” Kate’s voice is soft, almost gentle as she reenters the room. He strains his head to see her, knowing how pathetic he must look. 

“I’ll tell you,” he whispers. “I know where Derek is. I’ll tell you everything. Just please, Alpha, _please…_ ” 

Her eyes shine with triumph. “Where?” 

“Please take me out of here first— I can’t think, I need…” 

She sighs but unstraps his hands and feet. He tumbles to the ground and grips her around the legs, burying his face into her lap. “Let me touch you,” he sobs when she tries to kick him away. “Need you, Alpha, please!” 

“Now, now. You have to give me what I want first.” She chuckles and puts her hand on the back of his head, pushing him into her groin. The scent of her is overwhelming. “But that should help you. Tell me where Derek is.” 

He nods obediently. “We had a deal, Alpha. If I went missing he would take the baby and the others and run.” 

“The others? The other omegas?” 

“They stayed with us.” He rubs his hands over her skin as though doing it unconsciously, needing just any friction with his alpha. “But I know where they went. So I could find him if they ever got away. Alpha, please…” 

“Where, omega?” She pets his hair. “Where is he? You’re being so good, you’re almost there. You want to touch me, sweetheart?” She guides his hands to the waistband of her pants. “Just tell me where he is and you can.” 

He catches his breath as her hands leave his, satisfied with his neediness. He watches his hands move as if in slow-motion, not dipping into her underwear like she’d expected but over to the holster where her gun is safely stored. His hands are shaking but he grabs the gun and pulls it out. The weight of it feels incredible in his hands. 

She catches her breath and tries to grab it back but he scuttles away and presses the barrel to his own head. His forehead is best. He isn’t sure what angle he needs if he puts it in his mouth, and he’s afraid of missing if he shoots against his temple. He moves his finger to the trigger. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asks softly, hands still frozen as if she doesn’t want to make any sudden moves. 

“Getting out.” He shuts his eyes. He doesn’t want _her_ to be the last thing he sees. He pictures Derek, Derek holding Leo. He doesn’t know if it’s a real memory or just something he’s created, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? 

“ _Stop_ ,” she commands, an alpha order. He doesn’t let himself listen. The image in his head fades to black. He’s ready. 

“You really think this is smart, omega? I’ll still find Derek. I’ll still kill him. This solves _nothing_ for you. You really want to be this useless?” 

He hesitates. Now that he’s out of the bench and he isn’t pressed against Kate his mind is a little clearer. 

“It’s the heat, omega, it’s messing with your thoughts. Hurting youself won’t fix things.” 

He’d ordered himself to tune her out so she can’t get in his way. He has to do this, so he won’t betray the others. So Derek will stop waiting for him. Stiles just can’t be here anymore, and this is his only way out. 

She exhales, furious with his lack of action. “Go ahead, do it if you really want to. I’ll just find another omega. All you’ll be doing here is making a mess. I’ll still get Derek, and your son, and your friends. You’ll have no way to bargain on their behalf if you’re dead. Think about that.” Kate waits. “Omega? Are you ready to stop being silly?” 

He opens his eyes so he can see her again and nods, taking the barrel away from his forehead. There’s a flicker of relief across her face. “Good boy. Give it back to me.” 

The gun still feels heavy and powerful in his hands. She’s right. Killing himself isn’t the best way. If he wants to really keep his pack safe— if he wants to stop the root of the problem— 

He raises the gun and points it at her head. Her eyes widen, mouth falling open. She’s afraid. Afraid of an omega. Not such a powerful alpha after all. The thought clears his mind from the heat even further. She doesn’t own him. He still has a chance. 

“Omega,” she starts to say. 

He fires and watches her head snap back, leaving a misty spray of blood. Her body crumples to the floor, head smacking against the ground with a sickening crack. She’d fallen towards him and he can see that her eyes are wide open and unblinking. 

The bullet went straight through her forehead. 

Just like that, so quickly. Her and not him, just because he’d moved the barrel of the gun. It feels like a struggle to connect what happened to his own actions. But he _did this_. He killed his alpha. 

He sucks in a breath— noting dimly that the scent of Kate is different now, or maybe just _gone_ — and realizes that he didn’t kill his alpha. Kate isn’t his alpha. She’s dead now, because of him, and that means she was never strong enough to be his alpha. 

The tenuous bond they’d had is gone, just like that, and a rush of longing for Derek swamps him; mixes with the heat to create a new kind of determination. _That’s_ his alpha. Stiles has to get back to him. 

Running footsteps down the hall reach his ears and he stands on shaking legs. His clothes from yesterday are still on the bed and he dresses quickly, trying to keep the gun pointed at the door. The keys; the _map_. He dives behind the dresser for them as someone pounds on the door. “Kate?” a voice cries. “What the hell did you do? I’m coming in.” 

The door pushes open and he sees Chris Argent, Allison only a few steps behind. Chris’s eyes dart from Kate’s body to Stiles, back and forth uncomprehendingly. Stiles aims the gun right at his chest. “Don’t move,” he rasps. 

“Aunt Kate? Oh my God!” Allison runs past her father and Stiles doesn’t think, just grabs her by the arm and pulls her close to him. He presses the barrel of the gun to her temple and stares at Chris Argent. 

“Gen,” Chris says gently, putting both hands up. “Don’t hurt her. Everything’s going to be all right. Let her go.” 

“I’m leaving,” Stiles tells him. He can feel Allison shaking and he winces. _Sorry, Ally_. “And you’re not going to stop me.” 

Chris swallows hard and spares another look at his sister’s body. “Understood.” 

“And I’m taking Cora.” 

Chris looks genuinely confused. “Who?” 

“ _The girl in the basement_.” The idea that Chris would pretend he doesn’t know makes Stiles so angry the gun shakes and Allison yelps a little. Chris looks sick. 

“Okay! I didn’t know her name. I don’t go down there. Allison and I are just betas. We’re not in charge here. You don’t have to hurt us or the omegas downstairs. You don’t want to hurt anyone, do you, Gen?” 

“I already did. And my name is Stiles.” Stiles prods Allison forward. “We’re going to the basement. You’re going to bring Cora up. Don’t try anything, or I’m going to shoot Allison.” 

“I understand.” 

Just walking, keeping the gun against Allison’s head, is hard. He’s still in heat, his senses completely thrown out of whack. A voice keeps whispering that he’s being so _bad_ right now, threatening two betas like this. It isn’t his place. He shouldn’t be holding a gun and making orders like an alpha would. 

But he ignores the voice. He can do that. 

When they reach the basement he hands Chris the keys. “Go and get her,” he orders. “We’ll wait five minutes. If you don’t come up by then…” 

“You’ll shoot Allison,” Chris finishes quietly. “Got it.” 

Stiles watches him walk down and strains to hear what’s going on below. “You can take the gun away,” Allison says. “I know you’re not going to shoot me.” 

“Yeah, well, your dad doesn’t.” Still, he moves the gun away from her head. She won’t run and holding it is starting to make his wrist ache. 

Allison takes a shaky breath. “You killed Kate.” 

Stiles feels something pinch in his chest. Not regret, exactly, but he’s sorry for Allison. “She was going to do worse to me.” 

“I know. Just…don’t hurt my dad, okay? He’s not like her. He’ll let you leave here. He’s been really upset about how Kate’s been treating you— he’s been talking about taking my mom and leaving town—” 

“He should.” Stiles hesitates. “Come with us, Ally. We’re going somewhere…somewhere I think you might like. You’re better than this place.” 

She turns to look at him. He can see the circle the barrel of the gun has pressed into her forehead. For a second he thinks she’s going to say yes, but then she slowly shakes her head. “I need to stay with my family,” she says. “But I hope you make it to wherever you’re going.” 

The stairs creak and Chris leads Cora up. She’s trembling, leaning heavily on him. “Stiles,” she wheezes. “Is this a rescue?” 

For a second he almost wants to laugh. He must look like the farthest thing from a superhero right now. “You’re goddamn right it is, Cora. Let’s get out of here, okay?” He presses the gun against Allison’s forehead, into that perfect circular imprint. “How do we get past the mountain ash, Chris?” 

“You’ll have to turn on the sprinkler system. That should dissolve it.” 

“Okay. Lead the way.” 

“Let Allison go. You can hold the gun on me if you want. But your hand is shaking and I don’t want her shot by accident.” 

Stiles hesitates, then releases Allison’s arm. “Go, Ally,” Chris says. 

“I’m staying with you.” 

“I’m fine. Go downstairs and wait with the omegas; they must be scared.” 

“I’m staying,” Allison says firmly. “Stiles, you’re not shooting my dad. Dad, you’re letting them leave. I’m staying right here to make sure all of that happens. Let’s go before Grandfather decides to come home early, okay?” 

They walk together back to the main hallways and down the stairs. Stiles can see the omegas grouped together in the living room, huddled in a terrified circle, and he feels a pang of regret that he can’t rescue them all. 

Chris leads them to the garage and flicks a switch. “Sprinklers are on,” he says. “In about a minute the mountain ash should be washed away.” 

“Good.” Stiles looks around. “I’m stealing your car.” 

Incredibly, Chris looks like he might laugh. “Well, now I can _never_ forgive you.” 

“Cora, get in.” Stiles opens the garage door, keeping the gun trained on Chris, then walks around to the driver’s side. “I’m sorry I killed your sister,” he tells Chris. 

Chris’s face is inscrutable. “No, you’re not.” 

There’s no point in saying anything else. He’s right. 

Stiles looks at Allison one last time, then gets inside the car and steps on the gas. “Take this,” he says to Cora over the roar of the engine, handing her the gun. 

Cora plasters herself against the seat as Stiles barrels towards the gates. “Omegas aren’t supposed to drive,” she says dazedly. 

“Yeah.” Stiles tightens his fingers around the wheel. There are flecks of dried blood on his hands. “I do a lot of things omegas aren’t supposed to do.” 

The gates open slowly and he zooms past them onto the street. “Are we going to Derek?” Cora asks, cradling the gun. 

“Soon.” He forces himself to slow down. The last thing he needs is to get pulled over. “We have to make one stop first.” 

He tries to focus on nothing but the road. Whenever he pictures Kate’s empty eyes, or that circular imprint against Allison’s forehead, or the way Chris had stared after them as they left he starts to shake and the car nearly veers off the road. “It’s okay,” he says to Cora, keeping his eyes straight forward. “We’re going to be okay.” 

He parks on the street, tells Cora to stay put, and gets out, stumbling towards the front door. There’s something in the window and he stares at it for a second before he remember. The red shirt. His dad had kept a red shirt in the window for him all this time. It feels like a lifetime ago that he’d made that promise, but there it is. 

The door opens before he reaches it and his father charges out. “Stiles!” He grabs his son, hustling him towards the door. “What happened? Where’s Kate?” 

“She’s dead. I shot her. Dad, where’s Derek?” 

John doesn’t miss a beat. “He’s with Leo and the others. They’re all safe. Get in the car and we’ll go.” 

Stiles thanks his usually-slacking lucky stars that he has a true ride-or-die bro for a father. “I have one more person. And we need to get Scott…” 

“Scott and his mother are already with Derek. I stayed. I knew you would need me.” John squints as Stiles beckons Cora out of the car. “Stiles, is that— ” 

“The Argents had her. They were keeping her locked up. Dad, she can get us all out of here, forever.” 

John looks a little shell-shocked, but he nods. “Okay. Get in the car. I’ll grab what we need and be back in five minutes.” 

Stiles hustles Cora into the back of the car and then sits up front. “What are we doing?” Cora asks, voice a little small, clearly overwhelmed by being back out in the world. 

Stiles stares at his house. He can see the trees in the woods backyards, where this all began. If he’d never gone out there he’d probably be mated to some stranger by now, maybe safe but certainly, totally ignorant of everything real. 

Despite it all— it had been a good trade. He could pile all the pain and fear and guilt in the world on one side of the scales, but as long as Derek stayed on the other side, the scales would always be balanced. The thought makes him sit a little straighter. 

“We’re getting the hell out of town,” he says. 

# 

Derek is exhausted. 

He could blame it on Leo, but he knows that’s not fair. Even when the baby sleeps, Derek can’t. He just keeps wondering what’s happening to Stiles _right now_. 

It’s been two weeks. 

Stiles isn’t coming back. 

By now Kate has probably forced a heat. He could be pregnant. The Stiles Derek knows might be just _gone_ , fucked out of existence so he could be remolded into Kate’s toy. 

Derek has lost a lot of things in his life. A lot of _people_. But the level of helplessness he feels right now is different than what he’s ever felt before. 

The time, this _one_ time, love was supposed to be enough. He knows that’s naïve. Stupid and childish, far from what an alpha should be thinking. But he’d just loved Stiles with all his heart, putting down every wall and making every promise there was to make and damn it, _damn_ it, it was supposed to be enough. 

He rocks Leo absent-mindedly, trying to soothe him. He’s been fussy without Stiles. Derek imagines having to tell his son one day what happened to his omega parent and it only makes him feel worse. 

The others are out in the living room. They moved from the shitty motel to some condo-for-rent, courtesy of Melissa McCall’s credit card. She’d come with Scott four days ago. Derek knows his packmates are antsy to leave, though they don’t dare say anything to Derek right now. They want to go north and see what there is to find. Scott, meanwhile, has been arguing to Derek about going in and trying to get Stiles out, unwilling to see that it’s hopeless. 

Leo starts to cry in earnest and Derek sighs. He needs to get a bottle from the kitchen. Conversation stops when he steps out of the bedroom— given Scott’s angry red face and Erica’s slightly shamefaced one, he imagines they’re arguing again about giving up on Stiles and leaving. 

Soon it will be time. Derek will have to make the call. 

Not today. Maybe tomorrow. How the hell is he supposed to choose? 

“Derek,” Boyd says, breaking the silence. He’s staring out the window. “There’s a car coming.” 

There shouldn’t be. This place is secluded and there are never any visitors. Derek feels his hackles raise. “Here,” he says tersely, passing Leo off to Kira. “I’ll go take care of it.” 

_Please, be someone I get to kill._

He shuts the door firmly behind him and stares down the car as it drives up. With the tinted windows he can’t see who it is and he prepares himself. 

The car rolls to a stop and the driver’s side door opens. Derek tenses and feels a shiver run through him, what he usually feels just before a shift. 

But what happens when he sees who it is causes a different transformation than man to wolf. It’s more like coming back. Like waking up from black-and-white into technicolor. 

_Stiles_. 

His mate grins and runs at him, giving Derek about three seconds to find his breath before Stiles is jumping into Derek’s arms. Derek grabs him and pulls him close, burying his nose into Stiles’s neck so he can be sure it’s real. He can smell another alpha on Stiles, a thick ugly claim, but it’s okay. It’s okay. Underneath it, he still just smells like Stiles. 

“Honey, I’m home,” Stiles whispers, clinging to Derek like he’ll never let go. 

“God, Stiles. _God_. I was starting to think…” 

“Took me a little longer than I wanted to get away. But, you know, I was totally in control the whole time.” 

“Really.” 

“Practically on vacation.” 

He says the words lightly, but Derek can hear the lie in his heartbeat, see it in his face, and just kind of _feel_ it through his whole body. His mind roars at the knowledge that his mate is hurting and he tightens his grip. “Who do I have to kill?” he asks as he rubs the small of Stiles’s back. 

“I already took care of it.” Stiles presses against him. God, he smells so _good_ once Derek gets past the other alpha’s smell. It’s making his instincts go crazy, but he pushes it aside; that’s not what Stiles needs. “Kate Argent is dead,” Stiles says. The words shake a little. Derek thinks he senses guilt, and that just won’t do. 

He lifts Stiles, letting him wrap his legs around Derek’s waist, and hugs him tightly, so Stiles will be able to breathe in his alpha scent and be comforted. “Good,” he says gently. “You protected yourself and came back to us.” 

“I shot her.” 

“You had to,” Derek says firmly. “Didn’t you?” 

Stiles breathes out. “Yes.” 

“And now you’re home. Everything’s all right.” Derek kisses Stiles’s neck. When he buries his nose right _there_ he can only smell Stiles and he realizes Stiles isn’t just shaking because he’s overwhelmed, he’s shaking because he’s in _heat_. 

He ignores the rage he feels at the realization that Kate must have forced it and chooses tenderness instead. “You’re with me now,” he says softly. “You made sure she’ll never hurt you again, and I’ll make sure _nobody_ ever hurts you again. My mate. I knew you’d come home to me. I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Stiles says. He tilts up his head just a little, practically looking at Derek shyly, and Derek grins before putting a hand on Stiles’s cheek to keep him steady and kissing him. The pain he’s felt in his chest since Stiles was taken is gone, as if losing him had popped out a joint and now it’s been set back into place. 

“There’s something else,” Stiles says hesitantly. 

“Hm?” 

“Look.” 

Derek looks past Stiles. John Stilinski has gotten out of the car, face serious, and behind him— 

“Cora? _Cora?_ ” 

Derek’s sister hangs back. “Derek,” she says. Her voice flutters. It’s different. It used to be so deep and hard, but now it’s tremulous. 

“The Argents had her,” Stiles says softly. 

She doesn’t run to him like Stiles had, just walks over slowly, hugging herself. Stiles disengages himself from Derek and Cora steps into his embrace, shaking. 

_Cora_. 

She’d been with them this whole time…and Derek _never knew…_

He wants to howl with grief and fury. But Cora stinks of pain and fear and confusion, and Stiles is right at his side, hurting too, and he’s an alpha. He’s _the_ alpha. He needs to take care of his family. 

“It’s okay,” he says to Cora gently. He pulls her close, reaching out for Stiles with his free hand. He will take care of this. He will do whatever he has to do to make sure his family is all right. “Shh, Cora. You’re safe now. Everything’s going to be okay.” 

# 

Stiles leaves Derek with Cora after a few minutes, once he’s sure Derek has things under control. Derek sees him glancing longingly towards the door and grins. “He’s in there,” he says. “Go.” 

Stiles _flies_. When he opens the front door there’s a babble of shock and excitement at the sight of him, but he only has eyes for the baby in Erica’s arms. 

_Leo._

He grabs his son and swings him around, laughing out loud as Leo gurgles delightedly. He’s gotten bigger in the past two weeks. While the others crowd around eagerly, Stiles hugs the baby to his chest, whispering to his little boy that he will never, ever leave him again. 

After a while Derek comes back in with Cora and wraps them both up in his arms, rumbling deep in his chest with satisfaction at the knowledge that everything he loves is within five feet of him. Stiles sways in his embrace, eyes closed tightly. He sees a flash of Kate Argent's sneer, but then it's gone. Gone _forever_. 

She can't touch him now. 

He’s home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Stiles is slapped, forcibly tied to a breeding bench, touched sexually against his will, nearly commits suicide, shoots another character in the head, and holds a gun to another character's head for a while.  
> (If you want to skip all Stiles/Kate, go about halfway down the chapter  
> NEXT UP: As Derek helps Stiles heal, the pack makes a plan to get to safety for good.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait on this! It's the last long wait of the fic, I swear. I'll be travelling next week and want to get the finished fic up before then, so look for the next two chapters on Sunday and Wednesday!  
> No trigger warning, but there IS a sex scene towards the top of this, and it contains the words "incredible alpha cock" so you know there's that.

It’s so good to be back with these nutjobs. 

Everywhere he turns there’s an excited face or someone giving him a bro hug. Erica is pounding on his back telling him he’s a fucking _superhero_ , he’s fucking _Batman_ , and Liam is grinning his rare Liam grin, and even baby Emma is being held up by Isaac to coo at him. Scott is yelling, “Don’t crowd him, don’t crowd him,” even as he’d practically hanging off of Stiles, and his dad is trying to keep Scott from knocking Stiles and Leo off balance. 

And of course there’s Derek, hanging back so he can keep a reassuring hand on Cora’s shoulder, eyes smiling as he watches. 

Finally Derek breaks it up, reaching into the love circle to pull Stiles and Leo out. “Everyone,” he says loudly, using his free hand to beckon Cora forward. “This is my sister Cora. Please _don’t_ give her the same welcome you just showed Stiles.” 

Cora emphasizes the point by scowling at them, arms crossed defensively. 

“Cora Hale?” Scott whispers, eyes wide. “I thought…where have you been?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Derek says sternly, narrowing his eyes at Scott. “She’s with us now. She’s my sister, so she’s pack.” 

“This is the pack?” Cora mutters, sounding a little disgruntled. 

“Yeah, Cora. This is the pack.” 

“Don’t knock us till you’ve tried us,” Erica says with a little smirk. Cora smirks right back at her. Stiles thinks they’re either going to be best friends or have murdered each other by tomorrow. 

Derek clears his throat pointedly. “Both of you need food. Mason and Isaac, go get soup started. Something light. Erica, grab my sister some of your clothes. Boyd, come with me; we’re taking Cora into the bathroom to look at her injuries and see if any can be treated.” Derek looks down at Stiles. “You good?” 

“Yeah, I’m good.” He nuzzles into Derek’s arms for a second just to tide himself over before sinking down to sit on the couch with Leo. He’s still in heat, but he’s been pushing it aside for a while, so he can manage for a little while longer. 

Scott and his dad sit with him. Scott wants to know what happened with Kate but John tells him sternly that they’ll deal with it later and they all just turn their attention to the baby, playing little games with him until Derek and Cora come back out. 

Derek is insistent that they both eat, but after the bowls are emptied, refilled, and then emptied again he finally gives Leo to John, takes Stiles by the hand, and announces that they’re going into the back room, and they aren’t to be disturbed until morning. Cora has found friends in Isaac and Emma and nods when Derek asks if she’s okay, so without any further ado Derek leads him to one of the bedrooms. “You’re in heat,” he says softly. 

“She forced it. But. Um. She didn’t…I stopped her before she raped me.” The words are halting, because he just doesn’t want to think about her right now. “She said it could last as long as a week if it’s not… addressed.” 

Derek swallows hard. “After Eichen,” he says slowly. “I know we didn’t…we waited. We just were together that one time in the shower. And I know we didn’t talk about it, but…” 

Stiles nods. He’d thought about it, when he was with Kate. That one shower quickie probably helped him, he knows; without that recent claim he might not have been able to hold on. But if they’d been having sex for those whole two months— it might have been different. Maybe his bond with Derek would have been so strong that Kate could _never_ destroy it. Or maybe his body would have gotten confused and thought that sex was all he had with Derek. That the bond was easily replaceable. 

“It was nice just being with you without needing anything else,” he admits. “It felt like we weren’t just an omega and an alpha. But…partners.” 

Derek nods. “I never wanted you to feel like you were bound to me. To feel claimed like that. I always wanted you to feel like you had a choice.” 

“I did.” Stiles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, so he can make sure he’s still in control. He’s unsettled by his time with Kate and he wants to feel grounded. “And I still have a choice tonight. I want to be with you.” 

“Okay. Come here.” 

Stiles practically falls on top of Derek when Derek leads him over to the bed. It feels _so good_ to let go after holding back for hours and he groans softly, grinding into Derek’s lap. 

“We don’t have any condoms,” Derek murmurs apologetically. “And I don’t think you really want to be pregnant again, right? So we can’t…” 

The rational mind agrees, but the body does not. “Please,” Stiles hears himself whine. He catches himself and shudders. How many times had he said to Kate over the past forty-eight hours? 

“Shh. It’s okay. I’ll still take care of you.” Derek frees him from his shirt and pants, touching him all over reassuringly. “I think it’ll be enough for you to know that your alpha is here, and loves you so much, and just wants to make you feel good…” He kneads at Stiles’s ass for a few minutes before carefully crooking one finger inside the slick hole. 

Stiles arches halfway off the bed. “Good?” Derek asks, a little smugly. 

“Oh my god, _keep_ doing that.” 

“Bet I could make you come just like this,” Derek says, still so smug; such an alpha. “But let’s go double or nothing.” He adds another finger and brings his hand around to stroke Stiles, his palm wet with Stiles’s slick. “Yeah? You know why I’m doing this, right, baby? Because I want to take care of you— want you to know you’re safe now, you’re home. I’ll always take care of you. Everything I give you is yours, all yours, whenever you want it…” Derek’s words come out in gasps as he ruts under Stiles, craving friction for himself but waiting until Stiles is sated. It’s even better than knowing he’s being bred. Derek is taking care of him, keeping him safe, giving him everything he needs— being his _alpha_. 

He feels so good that he holds on for as long as possible, until there are four fingers stretching and working inside his ass and his front is a mess of slick and precome. He presses his face into the rough underside of Derek’s chin, teeth dragging against the skin as though he might need to clamp down and hold on. 

It’s animal, but tender; instinctual but still _them_. “Tell me,” Stiles begs, voice raw, and Derek strips him faster, murmuring the words against Stiles’s forehead: “Of course you can come, do it now, show me how good you are, my mate, _mine_ …” 

He splatters Derek’s hand and the sheets on a cry. As the aftershocks roll through his body he stares up at Derek, his beautiful alpha. Derek had just finger-fucked him in heat, making him come with a slick-soaked hand, and Stiles knows that means their bond has been reaffirmed. Those omega instincts are satisfied, because he’s been claimed by an alpha. But that’s not the first thing Stiles feels when he looks at Derek— the mindless, instinctual pull of nature. Because, after all, Derek doesn’t _want_ him to be an omega first. Derek will always let Stiles be Stiles. 

The thought makes him curl into Derek, kissing him softly, holding him by the chin as if he’s the alpha in control. “Now let me take care of you,” he says, fingers fumbling at the button of Derek’s jeans. 

“You don’t have to…” 

“I want to.” Derek is already hard, pulsing red like he’s just _aching_ for Stiles. Stiles thinks of the months out in the woods when he desperately wanted _all_ of this but had to hold off. Now he doesn’t have to; now it’s all _his_. He grins at the thought and leans down to press little kisses all over that incredible alpha cock. 

Derek groans and tries to fist his hands in Stiles’s hair. It’s too short now so his hands just fall back, gripping the sheets. “God, Stiles…” 

“Yeah,” Stiles practically purrs. ‘What’s that you were saying, about all this being mine?” 

“Shit, _shit_ , baby, just…” 

Stiles _buries_ himself between Derek’s legs, sucking him enthusiastically, grinning around the mouthful at the noises Derek is making right now. He runs his tongue along the tip, teasing, then anchors his hands around Derek’s thighs so he can deepthroat him. Derek comes without warning and Stiles swallows the first mouthful before letting Derek’s come spill out over his chin. He wants to be marked by it. He wants to smell like Derek, so no other alpha can come by and think they can take Stiles away. 

“C’mere,” Derek grunts when it’s done. He pulls Stiles into his lap again and kisses him for a while, until Stiles is a boneless heap against him. “How are you doing?” he asks softly, hand gently rubbing up and down Stiles’s thigh. 

Stiles is too exhausted to reply so he just gives two thumbs-up. 

Derek snorts at him and lays down, adjusting the pillows and blankets until he’s cocooned Stiles into a warm little nest. “Sleep it off,” he whispers. “You did so good, baby.” 

“You weren’t half-bad yourself, alpha,” Stiles mutters, blearily kissing Derek’s fingertips when he reaches to adjust a pillow one more time. Derek snorts again and Stiles drifts off as Derek’s hand rubs a soothing circle over his back. 

When he wakes up shortly before midnight he still feels a little needy and shaky, but the worst of it is over. He hears soft sounds from the corner of the room and he sits up to see Derek with Leo. Derek smiles tiredly. “Figured I should take him off your dad’s hands. Our kid hates sleep.” 

“Give him here.” Stiles grins down at Leo, rocking him gently. “You just want to be out running under that full moon, right, Leo? You’re thinking of all those little bunnies and squirrels that go un-hunted every hour you’re forced to be in your crib.” 

Leo blows a spit bubble at him. 

So violent. 

There’s a cradle set up by the bed for Leo and Stiles puts him down— he’s still excitable, so it takes a few lullabies, but he finally shuts his eyes. “Thank you for taking care of him,” he tells Derek, unable to tear his eyes away from the baby. 

“I keep my promises.” Derek rests his chin on Stiles’s shoulder, nuzzling against his cheek. “But can we agree, in the future, that I never have to choose between you two again?” 

Stiles fakes a put-upon sigh. “If you’re going to _beg_ me to never be caught by our enemies and dragged away to a horrible fate, I _guess_ I can try and comply. Just for you.” 

“I appreciate it.” Derek’s hand is stroking his back again. Stiles isn’t sure if the constant touches are for Derek’s sake or his own. Probably both. “But speaking of thank-yous, I was talking to Cora. She told me everything. How you got her out of there even when…when she knew what they were doing to you upstairs. They tried everything to destroy her, but I think she’s going to be okay now that’s she’s with me again. So thank you.” 

“It gave me something to hold on to. The thought of bringing you your sister back.” 

Derek hesitates. “Do you want to talk about it? If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I’ll never ask you about it. But don’t feel like you can’t because you think I’ll be angry or upset.” 

Stiles watches Leo sleep for a few beats. “It sucked,” he admits. “Obviously. Not because Kate was hurting me, really, but…because it made me hate myself for being an omega, for the first time ever.” 

“You never have to hate yourself for who you are.” 

“ _What_ I am,” Stiles corrects. “That’s the thing. I’ve always tried to make being an omega just part of what I am, not who I am. And the line blurred when I was with Kate. There’s always going to be that small part of me that I can’t really control. Maybe it’s different for alphas— your instincts are to be in control, and to be taking care of things, and you’re _good_ at that. But my instincts are telling me to submit, and obey, and _follow_. And I’m not— that’s not me. Maybe because I’ve fought against it for so long or because that’s just the way I am. So is it always going to be like this? Fighting myself constantly?” 

“You don’t have to,” Derek says softly. “The type of omega they want you to be— that’s not your default setting. If it was, they wouldn’t have needed to beat it into you.” He sits on the edge of the bed and wraps Stiles in a soothing embrace. “Empathy is an omega trait too, you know. If you weren’t so attuned to emotion, maybe you never would have stayed with me when we first met in the woods. Maybe you never would have loved me the way you do. Maybe you…you never would have saved me, Stiles.” 

“Read a book, Der-bear. Omegas don’t do the saving.” 

“You do. I’m not saying you have to embrace that side of you. But don’t fight it. It took me a long time to learn not to fight myself— the wolf side, the alpha side, the part that’s just _me_ — and come to terms with myself. All of those parts of me make me who I am.” 

Stiles grins and cuddles in. “Well, I do kind of like who you are.” 

“I kind of like you, too.” 

“Oh alpha, my alpha. Such a sweet-talker.” 

“I _am_ your alpha.” Derek looks down at him seriously. “That means I will always, always protect you. But I’ll never ask you to submit to me. I don’t care if you obey me; seeing as the first thing you ever said to me was _fuck you_ I’m not getting my hopes up. You’re an omega, and you can’t change that. You shouldn’t want to. I don’t want any part of you to be different.” 

Stiles just nods. “You’re what every alpha should be,” he says simply before kissing Derek so neither of them can say anything mushier. After he’s sure he’s not in danger of letting out some embarrassing tears he pulls away and grins. “Does that mean I can say _fuck you_ whenever I want?” 

“Well, we have to do _something_ to keep the spark alive.” 

“Fuck you,” Stiles whispers lovingly before going right back to the kissing. They stay like that for a while before they finally fall asleep tangled together, pressed close for comfort until it feels as though they had never been apart. 

# 

The next day they gather in the living room together as Cora spreads the map over the floor. “There are pathways through the woods we would take,” she tells them, tracing the inked lines on the map. “But that’s only in the fifty miles or so from the border. For the rest of the trip we’ll need to take major highways.” 

“You really think they’ll all still be there?” Liam asks skeptically. “What if the system collapsed completely in the past year?” 

Cora scowls at him, eyebrows meeting in the middle, and suddenly looks _exactly_ like Derek. “Of course they’re all still there, dumb-ass. It’s a whole country. Where would they go?” 

“Will they let all of us in?” Stiles cuts in. “Werewolves, alphas, betas— all are welcome?” 

“Yes.” Cora turns back to the map. Something flashes in her eyes, regret and hope mixed together. “I know it’s hard to even imagine. But wait until you get there. You’ll see.” 

“We’re going to have to drive without stopping,” Derek says. “I don’t want to risk getting a hotel now if omegas are being microchipped as identification. Stiles is the only person here with one 

Isaac eyes Stiles as if he’s a ticking time bomb. “You’re sure that thing isn’t tracking you?” 

“Yeah. They were bragging pretty hard about the chip. If it was tracking me, they would have said so.” Stiles scratches the spot where he was injected. He _hates_ the fact that it’s in him, but he has a feeling Derek wouldn’t be gung-ho about the idea of ripping it out of him with his claws. 

“Does anyone know the full names of the other omegas from Eichen?” Erica asks. “I want them to know about this.” 

Everyone shakes their heads. “I wish there was a way to just, like, shout it to the world,” Scott says. “But we don’t have any way to reach people.” 

Stiles turns the words over in his head. The microchip. Getting information out to thousands of people. An idea starts to germinate. “You know who we _should_ tell?” he says to Scott. “Danny. He’s been helping us out for a while now.” 

“Give him a call,” Derek says over his shoulder as he bends over the map with Cora. “My phone’s on the table.” 

Stiles grabs it, ducking into the bedroom for privacy. Danny sounds harried when he picks up. “Yeah?” 

“Hey, Danny? It’s Stiles.” 

Danny makes a disbelieving sound. “Really? Because I’m pretty sure Stiles doesn’t actually exist. He’s just a folk legend omegas whisper about in the darkest of nights.” 

“Um. What?” 

“Everyone’s talking about what you did, dude. You straight-up _murdered your alpha_. The OSS has been running your picture twenty-four seven. Please tell me you’re heading off-grid as fast as possible.” 

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. We have news. Like, really big news. The kind of news that probably should be shared in person. Can we meet?” 

Danny pauses, but when he speaks again he sounds relieved. “Yeah. But I have to bring someone with me.” 

# 

Danny arrives later that same day, meeting Scott in town and driving over to their hideout with him just to make sure everything’s on the up-and-up. He brings with him the most handsome person Stiles has ever seen. “Holy crap,” Kira breathes as she watches through the windows with Stiles. “If I wasn’t so into Scott…” 

“Down, girl. He’s an omega.” 

Kira’s mouth drops. “Really? He doesn’t look like it at all.” 

“Yeah. Apparently that’s the problem.” Stiles goes to the door to greet Danny. “Hey, man. Good to see you again.” 

“You too.” Dany prods the omega forward gently. “This is Jackson.” 

Jackson looks grudgingly at Stiles. He’s radiating tension, even as Danny rubs his back soothingly. “Did you really cap your alpha in the head?” 

“She wasn’t my alpha. But yeah.” Stiles shakes his hand. According to Danny, Jackson’s had a hard time. He looks— and often acts— like an alpha and the OSS has constantly worried there was something wrong with him, so he’s been forced into hormone therapy most of his life to decrease testosterone. When mating time came he’d decided to finally run, went to Danny for a fake ID, and ended up just staying with him. Love at first sight. 

But now that omegas were being ID’d by chip Danny knew it was only a matter of time before they were screwed. They’d been trying to find a way out of Beacon Hills when Stiles had called. 

“So we take it you found the camps,” Danny says to Stiles as they step inside. 

“Better.” Stiles drops to his knees on the map. “Check it out. The OSS has been hiding a whole country.” 

“The _fuck?_ ” Jackson practically thunders. Okay, Stiles can definitely see why the OSS hadn’t liked him. He practically out-alphas Derek. “Are you sure about this?” 

“Positive. Our friend Cora lived there for a while. They don’t have an OSS system, things are way less restricted for omegas. For years they’ve been trying to rescue omegas from America.” 

“Shit,” Danny says, wide-eyed. “Who all knows about this?” 

“Just us. But…everyone should, right? I want to get the word out about this. Even alphas who benefit from the system most would be furious if they knew this was being kept from us.” 

“Sure. But I don’t see how you’re going to do it. It’s not like we could get it on television, or post it somewhere people would see it before the OSS pulled it down…” 

“I was thinking we send it directly to the people.” Stiles takes a breath. He has _no clue_ if his plan is feasible. “What do you know about these new omega microchips?” 

Danny shrugs. “They carry all of an omega’s information. Cops and doctors have scanners, where they just have to scan the chip to see the info, and they’re now giving scanners to newly mated alphas and betas so they can scan their omega’s chip whenever they want. Make sure the omega isn’t keeping anything from them.” 

“Can you hack into them and change the information?” 

“I’ve been working on it. The OSS has their database locked down pretty securely. It’s tough because to change one specific omega’s info I have to get into their chip directly, rather than just attack the entire database.” 

“So you might be able to change _every_ omega’s info to say the same thing?” 

Danny gets it. “You want to put this map on every omega’s chip?” 

“We only need one cop or doctor or alpha to see it and make a stink. Can you do it? And somehow lock the OSS for a few hours so people will actually see it?” 

Danny frowns down at the map, then looks at Jackson. “I’d need a rootkit to get access…” 

Jackson shrugs. “You could do that. And after that it’s just a matter of keeping OSS people out through DDOS attacks.” 

“People might not believe it. We’d have to word it just right.” Danny reaches for his bag to pull out his laptop. “Okay. I can try. I need a quiet room, black coffee, sour patch straws, and energy drinks.” 

Stiles grins and slaps him five. “You’re my favorite nerd, dude.” 

“Yeah, yeah. It’ll take twenty-four hours at least. But I want to be, like, _at the border_ when I actually do it. The OSS might be able to track my IP address.” 

“Can you work in the car?” 

“After a solid five or six hours of work here I can.” 

“Okay.” Stiles hears footsteps and looks up to see Derek leaning into the room with Leo, Cora right behind him. “Derek, can we leave tomorrow morning and head towards the border?” 

Derek nods. “I’ll tell the pack.” 

“Okay.” Stiles rests back on his heels and exhales. It feels like something this monumental should have a bigger sense of ceremony, not just three dudes kneeling around a wrinkled piece of paper. “I guess we’re really doing this.” 

# 

“Maybe we should pack cyanide pills,” Stiles says to Derek later that night as they climb into bed together. “If we get caught, they’re not taking me alive.” 

Derek snorts, even though he has a feeling Stiles isn’t kidding. “I don’t think they sell those at the drugstore.” 

“Okay. Then I guess you’re just going to have to kill anyone who tries to stop us.” 

“No problem.” Derek wraps his arms around Stiles. He can hear Leo snuffling in his sleep and he focuses on the sound. He imagines what it might be like to actually feel _safe_. They still have a lot of work to do. Cora is still fragile from her time with the Argents— she won’t really talk about it, and Derek isn’t exactly one to press for details, so he’s just been spending time with her, talking about their family and what Canada’s like so she doesn’t have to think about what happened with the Argents. 

It’s the same with Stiles. Derek just wants to take away what happened, erase it from his past so he never has to remember it. Sometimes being an alpha is difficult for this very reason— he just wants to _fix_ , but he can’t control everything. 

But he _can_ make sure Stiles and Cora and Leo and his pack are safe. 

Tomorrow they’re going over the border. Nobody will ever hurt his family again.


	18. Chapter 18

It rains the day they leave, an endless waterfall that has the wipers at full blast and lulls Leo to sleep almost instantly. They’re split up into several cars. Derek drives Stiles, Leo, and Cora in a car they’ve rented and will never return. Scott has Kira, Isaac, and Emma. Melissa has Mason and Liam and Jackson and Danny. John has Boyd and Erica. 

“And so the great caravan sets forth,” Stiles intones as they inch their way out of town. 

“Never to return,” Derek mutters, squinting through the curtain of rain. 

With the downpour in the way Stiles can barely see what they’re passing, the woods and houses and landmarks of his life. It’s kind of sad to think he’ll never be back here. “Say bye-bye,” he whispers to Leo, who promptly yawns in his face and falls asleep. Evidently his infant isn’t much for sentimentality. 

They all have copies of the map but try to stay together as they follow the marked path. Stiles calls to check in on Danny, who is still working to get into the OSS database, so often that eventually Jackson answers, thunders “HE’LL FINISH WHEN HE FINISHES, STILINSKI,” and hangs up. 

“Huh,” Stiles says, taking the phone away from his ear. “Scott better be careful. I’m pretty sure Jackson’s gunning to be my new best friend.” 

“I thought I was your best friend now.” 

“Aw, Der. That’s sweet. My mate can’t be my best friend, because a best friend is the person you bitch to _about_ your mate. Imagine how awkward that would be.” 

Derek looks affronted. “Well, you have zero reason to ever bitch about me, so problem solved.” 

“Oh, duh. Somehow I always forgot that you’re perfect.” 

“I forgive you. Just don’t do it again.” 

“Ugh,” Cora grumbles from the backseat. “You guys are gross.” 

They make brief stops for lunch and dinner but otherwise drive through the night, powered by energy drinks. Stiles gets really good at changing diapers in the backseat of a moving car, which is just a superfun life skill. Being a father is _so_ rewarding. 

Danny calls somewhere around the twenty-four hour mark, sounding completely exhausted, to tell Stiles that he’s figured it out. He can overwrite the microchip info at any time. 

“Tell him we’re about a half-hour from the last major town,” Derek says. “We’ll find a place to stop and do it there.” 

Stiles relays this. “Is that town Carrabarro?” Danny asks, voice a little distracted. Stiles can hear him striking laptop keys. 

“Yeah.” 

“Is that the only way we can go?” 

Derek nods. “Yeah.” 

“Well, we’ve got a problem. I’ve got traffic alerts up here. There’s a checkpoint set up right before the entrance to the town. Some omega in the town over went missing, and they’re checking all the cars that go through, probably since they’re so close to the border. We might not be the omegas they’re directly looking for, but seeing as you’re Public Enemy Number One and Derek’s probably still haunting their dreams…” 

“And Derek can’t hide in the trunk or whatever, since then we don’t have enough drivers. None of the omegas but me know how to drive. _Shit_.” Stiles sighs. Nothing is ever easy. 

“Yeah. I guess we’re going to have to risk it on Derek, because I don’t see any other way. But you’re going to have to hide, because we’re fucked if we let the most infamous omega in the country just roll up to OSS agents.” 

Stiles frowns. _The most infamous omega in the country._ “What if I wasn’t an omega?” he asks slowly. 

“What?” 

“Maybe me and Derek…we can kind of disguise ourselves in plain sight.” Stiles looks Derek up and down. He’s got an alpha build, for sure. But his cheekbones are kind of high, and he is sort of _beautiful_ in a way that might fool somebody who didn’t look close enough. “Okay,” he says to Danny. “We need to find a rest stop. I have a plan.” 

# 

“This is never going to work,” Derek grumbles forty-five minutes later. 

“Yeah, so you’ve said, Mr. Broken Record.” 

“We’re talking about trained OSS agents here. They’re going to— ” 

“Care about appearances,” Stiles finishes. “Believe their own propaganda. See an omega acting like an omega and an alpha acting like an alpha and not give it a second thought.” 

Derek gives him a pained look from the passenger seat. He’s wearing a pale blue shirt that belongs to Isaac with one of Kira’s flowy wraps over it. Another shirt is stuffed into his chest for the illusion of breasts. “But do I have to look so ridiculous?” 

Stiles grins. “You don’t look ridiculous at all. You look so beautiful, omega.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Aww.” Stiles reaches out to chuck him under the chin. “Come on, omega, give me a smile. Don’t you know you’d be so much prettier with a smile?” 

Derek actually growls. “Do alphas really say that shit?” 

“Yes. You’re supposed to blush prettily and be grateful for the attention. Come on, Der, you have to sell it.” Stiles wriggles in the driver’s seat, trying to hold his shoulders as high as possible. He’s wearing one of Scott’s shirts. Hopefully the scent of an alpha on his clothes will be enough to fool the checkpoint. 

Because they don’t want to look like anything other than a family heading out for the day, Cora is currently hidden in the trunk. John, Melissa, and Scott have hidden omegas in their trunks too, to keep the agents from thinking they’re trying to smuggle omegas past the border. 

“If anyone gets stopped, I’m ripping throats out first and asking questions later,” Derek warns Stiles as the traffic starts to slow. They must be approaching the checkpoint. 

“I know, I know. But we’re not getting stopped. Not when we’re so close.” 

Derek smirks. “Yeah. That might break the streak of good luck we’ve been enjoying over the past year, huh?” 

It takes about twenty minutes to actually reach the checkpoint. When their turn comes Stiles squares his shoulder while Derek rounds his, folding his hands in his lap demurely. 

The agent raps on Stiles’ window and he rolls it down. “What’s the problem?” he demands, trying to sound like an arrogant alpha annoyed with the break in routine. 

“Sorry, sir. We’ve got an omega on the loose and we have reason to believe they’re heading this way.” The agent shines his flashlight at Derek. “This one yours?” 

“Yeah. Trust me, he’s not running away. I made sure he has something to stay for.” Stiles jerks his head towards the backseat, where Leo is still sleeping. “Look, we’ve got our kid and we’re just trying to get home.” 

The agent stares at Stiles for a second. Does he recognize him? Stiles can’t tell. “I understand that, but we have to be thorough.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes but nods and the agent shines his light into the backseat. It wakes up Leo, who lets out a displeased cry. “Omega,” Stiles snaps. “Quiet him down 

Derek fumbles to try and rock the carseat soothingly, but Leo only screams louder. Stiles smacks Derek’s hands away. “Jesus Christ, can’t you do anything right?” 

“I’m sorry, Alpha,” Derek whispers. His voice is trembling. “He’s hungry.” 

“ _I’m_ hungry, and if you hadn’t wasted so much time this morning we’d already be home and fed. Stop, omega. Don’t you dare start crying. Between you and the baby I’ve had it with the tears.” Stiles looks back at the officer. “Is this going to take much longer? I think someone needs a little old-fashioned discipline.” 

The agent is trying unsuccessfully to hide a smirk. “I think we’re good. Head on home, sir. And good luck with your omega, I know they’re tricky to manage right after giving birth.” 

Stiles rolls the window back up and steps on the gas. “He’s not calling anyone, right?” Stiles mutters to Derek. 

Derek watches in the rearview. “No. He’s already onto the next car.” 

Stiles sighs in relief. “Well, I think all three of us deserve a round of applause. Good timing, Leo. You devious baby.” 

“And I will begrudgingly admit that you were right. Your terrible plan worked.” 

“Stop, stop. The praise is going to overwhelm me.” He feels a little giddy with their success, but he doesn’t fully relax until he gets the call from his dad reporting that every car made it through. 

They pull into a little coffee-shop towards the edge of town and Danny boots up his laptop. “I have it ready to go,” he says, showing Stiles lines of code. “I’m also emailing it directly to some other hackers I know, and some of the officers who used to work for your dad. Anybody else you want me to send it to?” 

Stiles hesitates. “Actually, yeah. Give me a second.” 

It takes him a second to find the right email address. After Eichen burned she’d been transferred to a smaller facility in California, but she’s still with the OSS, so her information is public. “Can I send this one myself?” 

“Sure. Here’s the code. Just copy it directly into the body of the email and it’ll load the map when its opened.” 

Stiles opens the email and hesitates over the right words. _Dr. Morrell_ , he writes finally. _Maybe the camps aren’t real. But this is. Time to fly north_. 

She had helped them out of Eichen, after all. He thinks— he _hopes_ — she’ll be brave enough again to make sure this gets out. And maybe someday he’ll see her in Canada. Her and Allison and the other omegas from Eichen. 

Danny clicks some keys and leans back in his chair. “Done,” he says grimly. “Anyone who scans an omega’s chip will see this. As long as a few people make a stink, the OSS will have to put out a statement denying it, and that’ll spread the news to everyone. Or they’ll smother it and the whole thing just dies. But this is the most we can do.” 

“Okay.” Stiles takes a breath. “So we’re done?” 

“We’re done.” Danny grins at him. “Let’s blow this joint.” 

X 

Eventually they have to abandon the cars and head into the heavy forested area on foot, toting duffle bags and babies. Cora takes the lead. “The path’s a little overgrown,” she says, whacking at some vines. “They must have stopped using it.” 

“If we get lost out here and have to make it as Forest People, you’re building me a tree house,” Stiles mutters to Derek as he jiggles Leo on his hip and tries to keep him from crying. “You Tarzan, me Jane.” 

“Hey,” Erica says, pointing to a tree. “Is that a ribbon?” 

Cora grabs it. It’s a little faded, but it can’t be that old. A smile blooms on her face. “It’s marking the way. It’s to help omegas follow the path. Come on, we’re almost there.” 

_Almost_ is a gross overstatement, but after two hours of following Cora and the ribbons she ducks into the shadow of a large tree and beckons them to follow her. “Okay,” she whispers. “So we’re almost at the border. Assuming the Americans haven’t changed their patrolling schedule, we should be able to just walk across. If anyone tries to stop us— _run_. As soon as you’re on Canadian soil, they can’t touch you.” 

“Stiles and Isaac, go right behind Cora,” Derek orders. “The babies need to be the first ones over.” 

Stiles’s heart is somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. This is it. Cora leads them forward, going faster by the second. “There,” she hisses, pointing. There’s a red ribbon wrapped all the way around the trunk of a tree. “That’s the border—” 

“Hey! Stop right there!” 

“ _Run_ ,” Derek shouts, and without a second thought Stiles sprints as Leo starts to wail. He can see men in uniform running towards them, maybe about forty feet away. 

Cora reaches the tree first. He sees her hand reach out to slap the tree as if she’s tagging in safe. Isaac leaps for it, making it across with Emma. Stiles is feet from the tree when his toe catches on something and he falls. He immediately tries to shield Leo and lands hard on his back. Everything goes black for a second and he’s so winded he can’t move. 

Derek grabs him and hoists him up. “Go, Stiles,” he roars right into Stiles’s ear, giving him such a hard shove forward that Stiles practically sails. He watches the tree as he passes and falls into his dad’s arms before turning to find Derek. 

He’d had to stop to grab Stiles and he’d waited to make sure Leo and Stiles had made it safely. He’s running now, so close Leo is already stretching his arms towards him, wanting his Papa for comfort. 

There’s a bang, but before Stiles can even think about it he’s watching in horror as Derek falls. He can’t believe it. Derek isn’t the clumsy one here. How on earth could he have tripped? 

Then he gets it, Derek falling and the bang and the way Derek is just lying on the ground without moving. He hears Cora scream as if from underwater. They shot him. The border officers shot him. But it’s fine. They haven’t reached him yet. Derek is a werewolf, and it’s just a gunshot. He’d been shot at Eichen too, but he got up. Derek always gets up. 

But Derek isn’t getting up. He’s just lying there. 

“I have to get him,” he says dazedly, starting forward. His dad grabs him, holding him tight. 

“You can’t go back over,” John says. His eyes are huge. “They’ll just grab you too.” 

Stiles turns and sees that the officers have reached Derek. They hoist him up, revealing the dark and spreading bloodstain at his shoulder. For a horrible second Stiles thinks he’s dead, but his eyes flutter open slowly. Stiles watches him take in his own predicament and then look across the border to find Stiles and Leo. His face clears of everything except relief and he nods at Stiles. _It’s okay. Go without me._

No. No. Derek can’t be the only one not to make it. Stiles struggles in his dad’s arms. Cora is being restrained too, but if they all just rush the officers surely they can do it. They can’t just leave Derek like this, not after everything— 

There’s more gunfire and Stiles ducks, certain the officers are shooting at them, or have executed Derek right there, but then he realizes the shots came from behind them. He hears running footsteps and seconds later a redheaded woman sprints past them, coming to a stop right at the edge of the border. She aims her gun at the officers. "Let him go!" 

One of the officers has his arm around Derek’s neck in a chokehold. “He’s one of ours and he tried to pass illegally. We’re taking him.” 

“You’re not allowed to use deadly force against migrants and you know it. Let us have him and I won’t report it to your government.” The redhead keeps the gun aimed steadily. “Come on, boys, let’s not start a shoot-off with all these innocents here. You want to make this an incident and get fired, or you want to pretend like nothing happened and go about your day? Your choice.” 

It’s an agonizing few seconds before the agent releases Derek. “That’s it,” the woman says. “Just walk over here nice and easy, sir.” 

Derek walks slowly due to his wound, but he makes it. He crosses the border and immediately grabs Stiles and Leo, holding them so tightly Stiles can feel him shaking. The woman lowers her gun and, much to Stiles’s surprise, grins easily at the officers. “As always, a pleasure doing business with you.” 

The officer chuckles. “You know I can never say no to you, Martin.” 

“Yeah, I know. That’s why you’re my favorite leach. But seriously, stop shooting people, or next time I’ll cap _you_.” The woman turns and grins at Stiles and his friends. “Welcome to Canada, everyone. Your chances of being shot in the face just lowered significantly.” 

# 

The woman’s name is Lydia Martin and she’s a border patrol agent for Canada. She has a first aid kid and bandages Derek’s shoulder. “You’ll need medical attention,’ she says, frowning at the severity of the wound. “This could have killed you. It _should_ have killed you. Are you a werewolf?” 

Derek looks startled. “Um. Yeah.” 

“Oh, okay. Lucky for you.” 

“You’re…that’s okay?” 

She laughs. “Of course it’s okay. We’ve got the largest percentage population of werewolves in the world. Come on, we’ll get you processed and then find you temporary housing.” 

She makes formal introductions with everyone, even shaking the babies’ hands, as she leads them through about a half-mile more of forest. Eventually it thins and they find themselves in a small, cozy town. Lydia leads them to a brick building and knocks on the door. “I’ve got a huge group of refugees here, two minor children,” she says into an intercom. “We’re going to need medical.” 

They’re taken inside and given warm drinks for the adults, and somehow even fresh bottles of formula for the babies are provided. Leo is a little grumpy as he drinks, finally fed up after the car ride hell and Great Adventure through the woods, but after a while of rocking he falls asleep against Stiles’ chest. A doctor comes to look at Derek’s shoulder, taking him into a back room to get it fixed. He’s wincing when he returns, but he gives Stiles a thumbs-up. 

“I know you have a huge aversion to cats, but I’m pretty sure you somehow inherited their nine lives,” Stiles tells him, resting against his uninjured shoulder. 

“Yeah, but I donated a couple to you. Let’s try and save the rest.” 

Lydia comes to sit with them. “Sorry for the wait. I guess something’s going on over on your side— our country’s existence was finally leaked to the masses and your government is trying to figure out if it was us. We’re just a little tied up dealing with that.” She doesn’t miss the quick, guilty glances everyone shoots at each other. “What?” 

Danny clears his throat sheepishly. “Actually, that was us.” 

Her face breaks out into a delighted smile. “Wow. Seriously? That’s too cool. Well, no worries. You guys are going to be heroes here. Most of us have been dying to start our rescue work back up in earnest, but the government’s been all worried about the treaty. Now, problem solved. They’ll be coming to us. And good job getting in ahead of the pack; it’s going to be hell processing all the refugees we’re probably going to get over the next few months so we’ll make sure you’re settled quickly.” 

“Guess you’re going to be shooting at a lot of officers,” Stiles says a little dazedly. Everything since Derek was shot has a floaty, unreal quality, like a dream he’s about to wake up from. 

“Seriously. They’re dicks, but honestly, they’re easy to work with. We’ve had more standoffs than I can count and by this point they like me.” Lydia rolls her eyes. “Something about an omega holding a gun just does it for them.” 

Stiles’s jaw drops. “You’re an omega?” 

“Yep.” 

He never would have guessed. There’s an air about her, something so self-possessed. Something he’s only ever seen in alphas. “And it’s…it’s really okay here for us?” 

Lydia smiles kindly at him. He figures she’s gotten this question more times than she can count. “Stiles, our _prime minister_ is an omega.” 

Stiles has always avoided the stereotype of an overdramatic omega who falls apart after a long day and cries at the drop of a hat. It’s insulting, and stupid, and has no real basis in reality. After everything he’s been through the _last_ thing he wants is to come off as weak. 

But fuck it. When he hears that, he cries. 

# 

They’re stuck at the processing center for a while longer, but eventually they’re cleared and driven to state housing. It’s a decent apartment building, with enough vacancies that each of them can have their own room. Derek goes in search of cribs for Leo and Emma while Stiles makes sure all the others are settled. 

Jackson closes the door of his and Danny’s room in his face, but Stiles thinks he detects a slight smile, so they might be best friends yet. 

Erica and Boyd immediately get busy in their own room celebrating what Lydia told them about same-sex matings being legal in Canada. 

Scott and Kira look like they’re about to go get a room together too, but Melissa steps in and gets a room with Scott instead. Cock-blocker. But Kira gets a room of her own and Stiles is almost positive he sees her slip Scott a key. 

Liam and Mason room together too, bros for life. 

Cora surprises him by cheerfully volunteering to room with Isaac and help take care of Emma. 

John gets a room of his own too and Stiles stays with him for a while so he won’t be lonely. “Please tell me that this isn’t all an elaborate dream and I’m not about to wake up to you calling up the stairs telling me to get ready for school.” 

John punches his shoulder. 

“Ow.” 

“Not a dream,” John says cheerfully, slinging his duffle onto the bed. 

Stiles helps him unpack. He’s mainly packed practical items, but there are a few sentimental ones too— a photo album, his Sherriff badge, the stuffed bunny Stiles had carried everywhere when he was a kid. Stiles flips open the photo album to find a picture of his mom. His throat tightens. He’d always had kind of a thing about visiting her grave— it never felt like she was _there_ and he just ended up feeling awkward and sad. But now he’ll never get a chance to visit her again. 

“Dad, thank you for coming with us,” he says quietly. “I know you didn’t have to. You had your whole life there, still—” 

John shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. I don’t care that I was considered top class, Stiles. I never want to live somewhere that treats people the way the OSS treats omegas. Because it _does_ hurt everyone, even those who seem to benefit from the system.” John looks down at the photo album to see the same picture of Claudia Stiles is looking at. “They took your mom. They tried to take you. I’ve never been so glad to see the back of something.” 

Stiles flips through the album to find a picture of his mother when she was pregnant. She’s laughing; John must have been holding the camera. “She made me a better alpha,” John admits. “You know, she was always talking about finding a place like this. We never thought anything like this could be real, and this was even before the legends about the camp started. But when something terrible would be in the news about an omega who’d been beaten to death or starved or caught trying to run she would say, ‘It won’t always be like this, John. We’ll make it someday. We’ll make it.’” 

God, that hurts. He imagines for a brief second what it would have been like to have her with them as they crossed the border. He wishes he could have known her as an adult. He wishes she could really have known _him_. 

“You want to hear a story about your mom?” John asks softly. 

“Sure.” 

“When she was pregnant with you we went in to see the ultrasound and the doctor said you were a boy. There was no way to know your gender at that point. As we drove home we were talking about it, and I admitted that I hoped you weren’t an omega. I just saw too many domestic disturbance calls every day and I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep you safe forever. Your mother got so mad at me. She said if I started you out with that kind of attitude. Omegas didn’t need to hear about how hard they were going to have it. They needed to hear that, no matter what, they would have the strength to overcome it. So I should be _proud_ to have an omega child, because together we would make sure you grew up always knowing that you were more than what they wanted you to be.” 

Stiles nods, remembering the educational games and long talks and hug sessions he’d had with his mom. “She was good at that,” he says quietly. “The OSS and school and the people at Eichen tried to make me think I had to be another way, but I’m only the way I am because of her. She’s the one who really taught me how to be an omega.” 

“After she died my biggest fear was that I wouldn’t be able to raise you in her image. But I guess I did a better job than I gave myself credit for, or you were just predisposed to follow in her footsteps, or she was somehow with us helping me. Because you ended up being everything she wanted you to be, Stiles. And she’s just as proud of you as I am.” John opens his arms and Stiles goes in for the hug. “I love you, kid.” 

“I love you too.” Stiles lets a few more tears escape, but it’s okay, because they’re muffled by his dad’s chest and he knows it’ll stay their secret. “I just wish she could have lived. I wish she could have come with us.” 

“She did.” John looks around the empty room and hugs Stiles a little tighter. “Hey, Claudie,” he whispers. “We made it.” 

# 

Stiles gets back to his room with Derek to find that a crib has already been set up for Leo. “Good timing,” Derek says, walking out of the bathroom with Leo snuggled in a towel. “I just finished his bath. You’re on bedtime duty.” 

“Sounds fair.” Stiles takes the baby. “So, Mr. Leo, what do you think of Canada? Should we stay?” 

Leo looks right at him and lets out a happy, gurgling laugh. His very first laugh _ever_. Good thing Stiles has reached his tear quota for the day. “Well, I’m going to take that as an enthusiastic yes.” 

“Good,” Derek says as he makes the bed. “He would have to hitchhike his way back if he wanted to leave.” 

Stiles grins. “So we’re staying, Alpha? That’s the final word?” 

“We’re staying. Get him to sleep and come to bed before I pass out.” 

Thankfully Leo is tired out enough from the long day and his bath that he falls asleep almost as soon as Stiles gives him a kiss and lays him down. Stiles immediately shucks off his filthy clothes and climbs into bed with Derek. “How’s the shoulder?” 

“I’ll live.” 

“I’m sorry my clumsiness almost got you killed.” 

“Well, my hero complex was partially to blame.” 

“Good job, Der. The first step is admitting you have a problem.” 

“Hopefully I won’t have to put it to use again any time soon.” Derek lets Stiles snuggle in close to him. “Your dad gave me something before we left,” he says softly. “He brought it from your house.” 

“Yeah? What?” 

Derek pulls out a piece of paper. It’s all taped together, and has clearly been folded and refolded about a hundred times, but he realizes after a few seconds what it is. 

That fake contract he’d made for Derek last Christmas. He traces the words: _Stiles Stilinski does swear he loves Derek Hale._ “Just as true today,” he says softly. 

“Good to know.” Derek kisses him. “This is the only contract I’ll ever need,” he says. “But now that we _both_ get to choose, I’d be happy to make things official.” 

“As would I.” Stiles looks up at Derek and grins wickedly. “You know, I recall that I gave you _another_ Christmas present that day. A certain set of white lace panties that would have cupped my dick just _perfectly_. I don’t suppose my dad salvaged those?” 

Derek’s eyes darken. “He did not. But luckily Christmas is just around the corner. I’m sure you can find a replacement set.” 

“Holy shit. Is it really? By my count I thought it was still, like…September.” 

“Nope. Better prepare yourself. I hear winters up north are a bitch.” 

“Good thing I’ve got my snuggly-wuggly Mr. Wolf to keep me warm.” 

“Call me that again and you’re sleeping alone.” 

Stiles laughs and snuggles under the covers next to Derek. Christmas. They’re going to spend Christmas together. He remembers how Derek had said so long ago that they would have a real Christmas the next year, when they were mated, and now they will. The path they’d taken had been longer and windier than they could have expected, but they’d ended up exactly where they’d wanted to be. “Hey,” he whispers. “You asleep?” 

“You know I hate that question. It’s only purpose is to wake me up.” 

“Okay, okay, sourwolf. I won’t keep you. Just wanted to say I love you.” 

Derek smiles with his eyes still closed. “I’ve got good news for you. You can say it for the rest of our lives.” 

“Don’t worry.” Stiles inhales deeply, scenting his alpha. For the first time he realizes that Derek’s scent is kind of like the first whiff of fresh air in the woods; that clean, relaxing earthiness, as if they’ve brought their woods with them. “I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look for my standard "and they all lived happily-ever-after" wrap up this Friday!


	19. Chapter 19

**Eight Months Later**

“Come on, sweetie,” Stiles cajoles. “Hold still for just a few more seconds so Daddy can get your hat on.” 

Leo is too busy stuffing his entire fist in his mouth to listen, but Stiles manages to wrangle the little hat onto his head. “There! Oh my God. You’re officially the cutest.” 

“Dah!” Leo shrieks. 

“Papa’s going to love this! Don’t give me that look. There’s nothing Papa likes more than unnecessary costumes. He just goes nuts for them.” 

Leo gurgles happily at him. 

The front door to the apartment opens and closes. “Hey, guys,” Derek calls. “I’m—” He rounds the corner and sees Leo. His mouth flattens. “Why.” 

“He wanted to dress like Papa!” 

“For the thousandth time, Stiles, I am not a Mountie. I’m a provincial cop.” 

“Hush, don’t ruin the fantasy.” Stiles picks Leo up before he can accidentally knock his hat off. He’d had to buy this costume as soon as he saw it. After John applied to the Canadian police force Derek surprised everyone by deciding he wanted to join up too, since werewolves weren’t barred from service positions here. He and John have finally finished their training and are officially on the local force. “Three generations of lawmen in one family. I always knew you could do it, Leo. Remember, the very best cops are the loose cannons who don’t play by the rules, because damn it, they get _results_.” 

“I don’t think that was in my training,” Derek says, taking a now happily babbling Leo from Stiles and giving him a kiss hello. 

“Nah, it’s just the unwritten rule.” 

Derek smirks. “Maybe for the Mounties. Not for us.” 

“Derek, seriously, stop killing my buzz. God, how amazing would you look in this hat?” He steps a little closer and leans in. “Besides,” he says, dropping his voice down low. “Don’t you know Mounties _always_ get their man?” 

“I got my man a long time ago.” 

“Well, only three months in the eyes of the law, but who’s counting?” 

Three perfect, blissful months since their mating. They’d had a small ceremony, feeling that anything more would be unnecessary since it would just be the pack coming. The language of the mating contracts in Canada are far different than the OSS-penned ones, with the sexism cut out and the truly important stuff left in, and their framed copy is currently hanging up proudly in the living room. 

Derek frowns. “God, has it already been three months already? I can’t believe I haven’t gotten you knocked up yet. I’ll put it on my calendar.” 

“Ha! Nice try, buddy. My body is a baby-free zone for at least another three years.” 

After all, he can’t get pregnant right now and leave his work. It had been kind of strange to actually apply for a job, something he’d thought he would never be allowed to do, but Lydia had mentioned that with all the people coming to Canada the immigrant processing centers could use some extra hands. Canada wasn’t turning anyone away if they could help it, but it took a lot of work getting people settled and integrated. It’s important work. He feels good doing it. 

“Hey, speaking of calendars,” Derek says as he heads towards the kitchen. “Remind me again when your next heat is scheduled for?” 

“Ah…next Friday.” 

“Okay. I thought so. I’ll take a half-shift.” 

Stiles is currently on Omatexin, a birth-control shot that lets him control his heat schedule and, best of all, block his scent from anyone _except_ Derek. That he can actually experience heats without the fear of getting pregnant might just be the best thing about being here, and that’s saying a _lot_. 

“Is Dad taking Leo?” Derek calls. Stiles still gets a little swoop in his stomach when Derek calls John “Dad.” It’s a recent thing, born out of going through their training together and the long family dinners they have every Friday and Sunday. 

“Nah, Scott and Kira offered. I think they’re going to treat him like their egg baby. You know, like in school when you had to take care of an egg to see if you could handle a kid?” 

“Yeah, no. Alphas and betas didn’t do that.” 

“I cooked mine immediately. Then we graduated to these robot babies that _spied_ on you.” Stiles shudders at the memory. “Here’s hoping they’ve phased those out.” 

Though thousands of Americans have come to Canada over the past eight months, many of those who remained were demanding change. Alphas and betas are worried that omegas will flee straight to Canada if they’re being mistreated in the States, so compromises, essentially, have to be made. 

The OSS still exists and operates, but they now allow omegas to “veto” contracts that aren’t desirable. The rehabilitation facilities have been shut down, and the government launched an investigation into what happened at some of those camps. It’s ongoing, but arrests in the early days had been swift. 

Jennifer is currently awaiting trial for what’s been described as “grossly misrepresenting the psychological well-being of omegas for the purpose of receiving authorization for extreme lobotomies” and for failing to protect the omegas in her care, as well as for good old-fashioned bribery. 

Stiles hopes she likes being imprisoned just as much as he did. 

Leo is wriggling to get down so Stiles sits on the couch and lets Leo cling to his hands as he gets to his own two feet. “Solo steps?” he asks the baby, letting go of his hands to see how he does. 

Leo frowns for a second, always a little scared to take the first step alone, but he carefully steps forward. He’s wobbling and Stiles waits to catch him, but as he keeps going he starts to walk more confidently. 

Derek comes into the room and drops down to the ground, opening his arms so Leo will walk to him. Leo gurgles and charges forward, tumbling happily into Derek’s arm. “Pa!” he shouts excitedly as Derek lifts him into the air in celebration. 

“Pa- _pa_ ,” Derek corrects, giving him a loud kiss on his cheek. “Can you walk back to Daddy?” 

“Dada?” Leo says doubtfully. 

“You can do it!” Derek points him in the right direction. “Let’s go give Daddy a big hug.” 

Leo beams at him and starts across the room. He opens his arms and Stiles does too, willing him to make it. Once upon a time he had thought he might never get to see this milestone. It could so easily have belonged to someone else. But here they are, this small perfect family, still whole. 

Leo almost runs the last few steps and Stiles scoops him up, hugging him tightly. “You did it!” 

“Dada! _Paaaa!_ ” Leo looks back and Derek and reaches for him too. Derek scoots forward into the group hug and kisses them both until Leo is breathless from laughter. 

# 

The heat always starts with a shiver, a distinct little zing in his stomach that signals it’s go time. Stiles has already dropped Leo off at Scott and Kira’s and is feeling antsy for Derek, so he hops in the shower just to pass the time. 

Thanks to his pills the heats don’t make him feel out-of-control now, and he’s got an emergency stash of blockers that will _immediately_ end a heat if things start getting dicey. Somehow that just makes the experience better, feeling like he’s choosing to have it rather than just being swept along helplessly for the ride. 

He leans into the shower spray, eyes closed and fingers teasing lightly at his hole. A sudden gust of cold air hits him and warm arms wrap around his waist. “Hi,” Derek says, nuzzling him. 

“I didn’t even hear you come in. Hi.” Stiles kisses him, greatly enjoying the slippery friction of their wet bodies. “Figured I’d get myself all clean for you.” 

“Trust me, you smell _anything_ but clean.” Derek’s fingers replace Stiles’, smearing the slick he’s already starting producing into his hole. “Were you opening yourself up? You know that’s _my_ job.” 

“I believe in team efforts. Why should you have to do all the work?” 

Two of Derek’s fingers are inside him now, and it feels _incredible_. “Well, in the interest of equality, I’ll let you choose. Should I fuck you here, or in the bed?” 

Stiles loves hot shower sex with a large portion of his heart, but nothing beats Derek knotting him on the bed so they can spoon together for however long it takes before the knot goes down. “Bed.” 

“I love when we’re on the same page.” Derek ducks out of the shower while it’s still running, grabbing a towel before reaching back into the shower and turning the water off. He wraps Stiles up, pausing only to press a few kisses into his freshly toweled skin, before literally scooping him up into his arms. “Der!” 

“What? I don’t want you to tire yourself out when we’re just getting started.” Derek lays him on the bed and spreads his legs, propping them up so his feet are on the bed and his thighs are spread wide. He starts by kissing the insides of Stiles’ thighs. “God, look how hard you are already,” he murmurs, pressing feather-light kisses to Stiles’ shaft. He’s always _such_ a tease. “You want to come on my knot, baby? Or right now?” 

Getting to choose, even between two such _very_ appealing options, helps Stiles keep his head, and he knows that’s why Derek is doing it. “Knot me,” he groans, and Derek gives him a quick kiss before getting him on his stomach and helping him into position. They always avoid having sex for a few days before the heat so Stiles will be nice and tight and _hungry_ for the knot, so Derek fingers him open for a few minutes first, stretching him until four fingers are in comfortably. 

Stiles’ body knows the difference between Derek’s fingers and his dick, and when Derek finally slides inside of him Stiles moans so loudly he has to muffle it in his pillow. God, this feels good. Every month it’s like he forgets just how good this is. Derek thrusts, swelling inside of him, finally locking into place with a satisfied grunt. Stiles comes almost mindlessly at the same time Derek does. 

Derek collapses on top of him. He rubs both hands against Stiles’ belly, which will soon be swollen with the many loads Derek will put inside him. “Round one complete,” he whispers. 

Stiles gasps out a laugh. “Yeah.” He turns to seek out a kiss from Derek before just collapsing happily into his embrace. “One thousand more to go.” 

# 

**Three Years Later**

“Daddy! Today Miss Markinson was telling us about bi-ogy and she said omegas like me have special ‘mones that mean we can have babies in our bellies but our ‘mones also mean we can take more pain and do art and be really good at hugs. Can my ‘mones really do that?” Leo looks at Stiles expectantly, as he usually does when delivering his standard After-Daycare monologue. Stiles hoists him up and gets him into his carseat. 

“The word is hormones, buddy, and yeah. Omegas can withstand more pain than alphas and betas and since omegas are more in tune with emotion we tend to be really good at drawing or painting or writing. But that doesn’t make us any better than alphas or betas—” 

“I know, Daddy. ‘Cause we’re all the same in our hearts.” Leo says it confidently, the motto that’s drilled into every school-age child. “How many ho-mones do I have?” 

“Um…lots. It’s complicated.” 

“Can I get rid of them?” 

Stiles tries not to react as he looks at Leo in the rearview. “Do you want to, honey? Do you want to not be an omega anymore?” Shit, he’d thought they would have avoided the typical one-sixteenth-life crisis when omegas don’t want to be omegas, since Leo can’t remember what it was like in America… 

“Nuh-uh, Daddy. Then I wouldn’t be like you. Besides, I want to have babies in my belly when I’m big because Miss Markinson said babies have skeletons and I want to have a baby with a skeleton because then I’d have _two_ skeletons.” 

“Sounds great,” Stiles says, because really, how is he supposed to answer that? He has so much more sympathy for what his own father must have went through during Stiles’s childhood now that Leo has hit and embraced the “talkative Energizer bunny” stage. 

Leo swings his legs against the seat. “Can I have juice when we get home?” 

“You’re going to stay with Emma and Uncle Isaac and Aunt Cora, remember? Your sleepover?” 

Leo’s eyes light up. “I forgetted. Did Uncle Isaac make brownies?” 

Of course he did. That man doesn’t go a day without spoiling Emma and Leo. “I don’t know. We’ll find out.” 

“What about you and Papa?” 

“We’re going to be at home while you have fun with Emma.” 

Leo looks genuinely concerned for him, as if he can’t fathom what Derek and Stiles will do with themselves if they aren’t taking care of Leo. “What are you going to do?” 

“Hm. Well, we might play hide-and-go-seek, or jump on the beds, or maybe we’ll play with your action figures…” 

Leo’s face clears. “Okay. Just don’t break them, Daddy.” 

“I won’t, buddy.” Stiles parks at Isaac’s and gets Leo out of the car. When he rings the bell there’s an excited shriek and Emma rips the door open. 

“Leo! Daddy made brownies and he said we can make milkshakes!” 

“Milkshake!” Leo shouts in pure delight. Stiles grabs him before he can bolt into Isaac’s kitchen and break everything Isaac owns. 

“Emma, Daddy told you not to open the door without an adult,” Isaac scolds as he walks around the corner. “Hey, Stiles.” 

“Hey, back. No Cora yet?” 

“Nope. Still at work.” 

Stiles isn’t a hundred-percent sure what the relationship is between Isaac and Cora. He isn’t sure _they_ know. Cora had stayed latched on to Isaac after they first arrived, making him her second-favorite person in the world after Derek. They became roommates so Cora could “help out” with the baby, and she never moved out. They might just be best friends, or they could be secret fuck buddies. Stiles is keeping a close eye on the situation. 

“Okay, buddy.” Stiles gives Leo a kiss. “Be good. You can call any time if you want to come home.” 

“Uh-huh.” Leo is already absorbed in a new comic book Emma is showing him. “Bye Daddy.” 

Stiles hurries home on the off chance that Derek gets out of work early. He still has some stuff he has to get done for work— the number of people immigrating has definitely decreased after the initial flood, but there are still hundreds by the week. He’s in charge of getting new prospective citizens the proper documentation to make their stay permanent. 

Every week he searches the list of new arrivals, looking for people he knows. He’s seen some that are familiar, old omegas from high school or cops who used to work with his Dad. Allison, Chris, and Victoria Argent had arrived two years earlier. Stiles had reached out to them, but Allison responded and said it was better if they didn’t meet. No matter what the situation, he had killed someone they couldn’t help but love. He understands. He just hopes they’re happy. 

The one name he’s never seen is Marin Morrell. Hopefully that means she’s working to make things better in America, which is slowly but surely changing its ways to prevent any more people from wanting to flee. Maybe he’ll see her again someday. If not, he wishes her well. 

He finishes up with work and glances down at his watch. Okay. One hour to set up Derek’s surprise. 

He’s already hidden most of the clues, but he tapes the first one to the door and hurries to the bedroom to arrange the surprise before stepping into the closet to hide. He’s set up a scavenger hunt with clues scattered throughout the apartment 

Eventually he hears the front door open. “Stiles?” Derek calls. “I can’t understand this riddle.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes. For God’s sake. He’d made the riddles easy enough for a four-year-old. Literally; Leo had been the planning committee. 

“’You can follow this clue if you are bright, seek it out and call _Let there be light?_ ’” Derek sounds perplexed. “Stiles? I need help with it. Why would I say…oh! The lamp!” 

Stiles rolls his eyes again. If that clue had him stumped, this is going to be a _long_ scavenger hunt. 

Derek slowly finds the rest of the clues and finally reaches the last one. “‘The time has come to get your surprise, it’s the place I picture you when I fantasize, love rolling around on it with you every day, there’s a prize waiting so please don’t delay.’” Stiles hears him laugh. “Okay, this one’s easy. I could have just skipped all the middle ones; I knew your version of a scavenger hunt would end this way.” He opens the bedroom door and is clearly surprised to find not a naked Stiles on the bed but a small box. “Stiles?” 

Stiles watches from the crack in the closet door as Derek opens the box. He hears Derek’s breath catch and he walks out, hugging Derek by the waist. “Surprise,” he says softly. 

Derek stares at him. The hand holding the positive pregnancy test shakes. “Are you sure?” 

“Four-tests sure.” 

“I knew it,” Derek whispers. “I _knew_ you smelled different…God, Stiles!” He hugs Stiles tightly. “We’re having a baby!” 

Stiles just nods and nuzzles into Derek’s embrace. He’s ready to be pregnant again. He’s ready to enjoy it this time. 

“You know what this means?” Derek murmurs after a few seconds. 

“That you’re probably going to be driving halfway around the country at 2 am to satisfy my cravings?” 

“Well, yeah, but that’s not what I meant.” Derek looks around their small apartment critically. “We’re definitely going to have to buy a house.” 

“With twenty rooms. We’ve got lots of babies to make together.” 

“A whole litter,” Derek agrees. His hands rest against Stiles’ belly proudly. “But we’ll just focus on this one for now.” 

# 

**One Year Later**

“ _Hush, little baby, don’t say a word, Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mocking bird don’t sing_ —” 

“Derek,” Stiles groans, throwing a pillow over his head. “This is the fifth time I’ve heard that song today and it’s only four a.m.” 

Derek gives him a pained look. “I must do as my princess commands.” 

Right on cue Elena starts to whimper and Derek obediently goes back to singing the only song that soothes her when she’s in a crying mood. “ _Papa’s going buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring don’t fit, Papa’s gonna buy you a big tool kit. And if that tool kit is too heavy, Papa’s gonna buy you a jar of jelly…_ ” 

They’ve been changing the words in a vain attempt to stave off insanity. Though honestly, it might actually be a _sign_ of insanity. They’ll figure it out later. Stiles yawns and sits up. “Here, I’ll take a turn.” 

“No, actually…she’s asleep.” Derek carefully lowers her into the cradle. “That’s it, sweetheart. Night-night.” 

“Sleep for one whole hour,” Stiles whispers to her pleadingly. “You can do it. So many people out here believe in you.” 

They lay back down in bed together quietly, trying not to disturb her. “Remember how chill Leo was about sleep at her age?” Derek whispers. 

“The joys of having an omega baby.” Elena is an alpha and is therefore far more temperamental than her brother was. Poor Leo has started sleeping with earplugs so he won’t be falling asleep during kindergarten snack time. “Do me a favor and hit me over the head with the lamp. I don’t care about the concussion. I just want the sleep.” 

“No.” 

“Derek, we’re supposed to be a team here.” 

“Yeah, so I’m not knocking half the team out of commission and tackling the next few hours alone. Nice try. Just for that you can promise her mockingbirds and diamond rings and hammerhead sharks the next time she wakes up.” 

“Hammerhead sharks?” 

“Yeah. Remember? ‘ _And if those firecrackers have no sparks, Daddy’s gonna buy you some hammerhead sharks_.’ I swear that was your line.” 

“Yeah, it was, I remember now. Boy, I hope she’s not actually expecting to get the things we’ve been promising her. Maybe that’s why she won’t stop crying. She knows we’re liars. Or she’s just worried these presents are going to bankrupt us.” 

“You explain it to her. I’m off the clock until 7 a.m.” 

Stiles falls asleep in the middle of his retort. He wakes up forty-five minutes later when Elena starts screaming and yawns as he picks her up. “You didn’t quite make an hour, kiddo, but at least you tried.” 

She squints up at him through her tears. She’s an exact copy of Derek, a little odd since she’s human like Stiles. He kisses the top of her head and rocks her. “ _Hush little baby…_ ” 

Maybe she’s as tired out as her fathers are, because she stops crying right after Stiles promises her some sweet gold chains (in case the pound of chocolate he’d just promised gave her tummy pains). He rocks her for a few minutes more as her eyes flutter closed and her face smooths out, looking just the way Derek does when he’s falling asleep. She makes a softly contented sound when he kisses her head. “That’s my girl,” he whispers. “See you in an hour.” 

He cuddles back in next to Derek, who gives him a bleary thumbs up for taking care of it. “Good job, Daddy,” he mumbles. “Rock-paper-scissors for who changes the next diaper?” 

They play. Stiles throws paper, which beats rock. “Sucker,” he whispers. “You know I always throw paper first.” 

“Show me a real paper beating real rock, Stiles. It’s ridiculous to say paper wins. I refuse to throw scissors on principle.” 

Stiles is pretty sure Derek just doesn’t want Stiles to have to get up to change the diaper. So sacrificial. “I can appreciate a man of honor.” 

He gets a snore in response. Elena coos in her cradle and Stiles can hear Leo breathing deeply in and out on the baby monitor they’ve put in his room to hear if the baby wakes him up. His family is all safe and sound in their beds. 

Exhausted though he may be, Stiles falls asleep smiling. 

# 

**Three Years Later**

“Daddy! Daddy! Magic Werewolf Jim came!” 

Stiles yawns and blinks his eyes open just as two exuberant children jump on top of him. He _oomphs_. “Good morning, children. Thank you for this lovely Christmas morning wakeup.” 

“Daddy!” Elena squeaks. She bounces on his chest in her pink jammies, black hair swinging. She still looks just like Derek, if Derek was a demented little pixie. “Presents!” 

“Papa said we could wake you up!” Leo shouts. “Can we open them, Daddy? Please?” 

“Please, please, please?” Elena adds 

Stiles looks to his left and sees that Derek has already abandoned him to go make Christmas bacon. Mm. _Bacon_. The thought has him sitting up quickly. “Of course we can. Presents rule. Head down and Papa and I will be there in a flash.” 

They tear out of the room as quickly as they came in and Stiles tries to hurry to get dressed. He passes Derek in the kitchen. “Merry Christmas,” he yawns. 

“Merry Christmas.” Derek kisses him. “Did you hear Magic Werewolf Jim came?” 

“I knew he’d find a way in past the snow. Did you put the turkey in yet?” 

“Yep. Dad and Cora are coming at one to help set up. Everyone else will be here at one-thirty. Kira and Scott said they’d be a little late since it’s Nora’s first Christmas and they have lots of presents to open for her.” 

“Cool. Speaking of, we’ll have a riot if we make the kids wait any longer.” 

Derek nods and follows Stiles into the living room. They sit on the couch together, curling up as they watch the kids open presents. Shopping for them is ridiculously fun. Stiles tries to keep Leo away from gendered toys, the play kitchen and vacuum sets and doll babies. Leo never liked that stuff anyway. He’s way more into Legos and video games. 

Derek and Stiles will be exchanging gifts later tonight when the kids are in bed, just like always. They have a few gifts for each other, but there’s one thing Stiles gets every year: a new pair of lace panties, always in a different color. After he puts them on Derek will help him recreate their _first_ Christmas. It’s a perfect tradition. 

Tonight they’re not using protection. Stiles has been off his heat-control for two weeks. He’s not in heat today, but he doesn’t think it will matter. And if it doesn’t work for them tonight, it’ll work for them tomorrow. Derek must be thinking along the same lines, because he rubs Stiles’ stomach slightly, smiling down at him before giving him a gentle kiss. “We’ll be buying baby toys again next Christmas,” he whispers. 

“Double of everything. I want twins this time. Relay the orders to your soldiers.” 

Derek makes a face. “Have I ever told you you’re gross?” 

“Yeah. But it has no heat any more. You still love me.” 

“I really do,” Derek sighs, hand rubbing over his belly again. 

The kids finish opening gifts and happily fall to playing with them while Derek and Stiles steal off to the kitchen to set up for dinner. John and Cora arrive early, Cora toting Emma so she can show her new toys to Leo. They’ve just taken the turkey out of the oven by the time everyone else has arrived to eat. Danny and Jackson bring pie and their four-year-old, Nathan. “Oh,” Stiles says excitedly. “Is it strawberry?” 

Jackson gives him a disgusted look. “Nobody likes strawberry pie, Stilinski. It’s cherry. If you don’t like it, make your own damn deserts.” He pauses. “And merry Christmas.” 

_Best friends for life,_ Stiles mouths at Derek as Jackson carries Nathan into the living room. 

Lydia comes too. Stiles has become close with her as they work together, and he thinks shes just about the best role model Leo could have. She still works for border control, though now that mainly involves taking care of refugee omegas who are fleeing abusive situations on their own. She’s single, and probably will be forever— there’s a program so she can go through heats with professional partners without bonding to them, and she says that’s enough for her. 

Liam and Mason have both brought their mates. For Liam it’s a beta werewolf he’d met at the library and is expecting his first child with; for Mason it’s an alpha he met at a fundraiser. His mate is actually sort of famous in Canada as one of its first transgender citizens— he’d been born an omega but always felt he was meant to be an alpha. It’s something that’s slowly becoming more common, and many of them, surprisingly, are alphas who become omegas. Ten years ago Stiles never would have imagined that people would have the courage to do that. 

These days it feels like the world gets better every day. He’d never thought he could say that, but here they are. 

Erica and Boyd come in late with Kinslee, their adopted two-year-old, and they all dig in. The kids are being too loud and Cora and Erica are already arguing about something and Scott and Kira’s baby starts crying and Stiles is _loving it_. He looks across the table at Derek, who is fondly taking it all in too. Derek tips his glass to Stiles. _Love you_ , he mouths. 

“Love you too,” Stiles whispers, knowing Derek’s werewolf hearing will pick it up. He looks around once more, drinking in the sight of everything he was never supposed to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Thanks for reading!


End file.
